Check Out
by BlackFingerlessGloves
Summary: Heather placed herself snugly within Alejandro's arms, sighing in content as her back rested against his solid chest. His hands lied in her lap and he placed his chin upon her shoulder. Duncan was very close to throwing his beer bottle across the room.
1. Prologue

**Hello there:)**

**Here's another story i've been working on... its my first multi chapter AU story so, we shall see how it goes...  
>I won't tell you the pairings, just cause i want it to be a surprise:) hehehe<strong>

**I own nothing of the Total Drama Series, if i did think of the possibilities...**

**Anyways... please read, review and enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The moon hung high in the ebony sky, affording the sky scraper an eerie shadow against the shining windows. Everyone had gone home, and he was alone at the very top. Papers were spread out everywhere, the boardroom's usual tidiness forgotten. He was slumped in a chair, his raven hair dishevelled from stress.

"Chris?" even with his best efforts to make his voice seem soft, Clayton Hatchet just couldn't help but sound rough. The assistant eased the door open, to see his boss slumped over countless papers, his eyes heavily lidded. There was definitely something wrong here.

"What's up?" he asked casually, as if he was asking for the weather. Chris' head lifted from his trace. Hatchet flinched, the state of his boss' face almost frightening. His eyes seemed to have sunken into their sockets, the sadistic glint in them completely gone. His lips were extremely chapped; it seemed that whatever was wrong was worse than dehydration or malnutrition. Chris moaned.

"Oh nothing much. This is exactly where I want to be on a Friday night, _Chef._" He grunted. Clayton sighed at the utter of his nickname. The one night Chris asks him to cook for him, and he's branded for the rest of his life! He sat down next to his boss.

"I'm sure." He replied, trying to read the papers in the moonlight. After a few seconds of squinting with no success, he gave up. "So what's really wrong?" he asked. Chris turned his head to face him again; perhaps this would emphasise what he was about to say.

"I lost the lawsuit. McLean-Mart is gonna close." He said; he looked as though the explanation was causing him some physical pain. Chris threw his head back into his waiting palms with a groan. Clayton, feeling exceedingly awkward, simply resorted to patting him on the shoulder as his boss continued to wallow in self pity.

"I mean, how could the judge just fall into their trap? It was emotional blackmail, damn it! Who in their right minds would believe some kid (who was clearly fake-crying) ramble on about my tough work hours or health code violations? I told them to stay away from the loose wires, didn't I? If one of them gets electrocuted because they can't listen it's their own problem. I told them again and again! And what do they do? Sue me! They signed those contracts fare and square! Mark my words; they'll all come crawling back." Chris sounded like had wanted to get this out for a while, and poor Clayton had been given the horrific task of being his shoulder to cry on.

His instincts were screaming for him to hit his boss over the head and speak out against his obvious disregard for the safety of his employees. But feeling his job was more important, Clayton simply cleared his throat.

"You know, just because you have no employees doesn't mean McLean-Mart has to close." He said mysteriously, his conscience hammering at his chest with no mercy. Intrigued, Chris' head slowly rose from his hands.

"What do you mean? No employees equals no sales equals no advertisement equals no more McLean Advertising which equals my living in a gutter! How can McLean-Mart possibly not close?" Chris wailed melodramatically, flailing his arms around to perhaps emphasise his point. A small grin tugged at the corners of Clayton's mouth.

"Why don't you just hire a new batch of kids?" he suggested. What Chris did next was completely unexpected. From the pit of his throat rang the most painful laugh anyone could ever have the misfortune to hear. Clayton tried not to shield his ears out of respect.

"Did you not here what I said? They. Had. To. Sue. To. Get. Out. Of. It! By tomorrow every newspaper in Canada will be talking about what a crappy manager I am, and how those poor little kids battled for freedom. Who do you think would apply for a job like that? My reputation is _ruined!_"

The same smile played with Clayton's lips. He continued on, as though oblivious to his boss' plight.

"Chris, Chris, Chris. Didn't you say it before? It's all in the contract."

Chris looked Clayton straight in the eyes, and much to his relief, that recognisable sinister glint within them was slowly coming back.

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><p><strong>Hmmm... i wonder.<br>Did you like my name for Chef? I kinda had to make one just cause he can't exactly be called "chef" if he's chris' assistant... so i just made it a nickname.**

**But does it work? Clayton Hatchet?**

**let me know in a review!  
>PS. it's gonna get more interesting, i promise.<strong>


	2. A Terrible First Day

**Here's chapter uno! (the previous one was a prologue just in case anyone is scratching their heads and questioning my counting ability)  
>Wow, this is like my longest update ever! it took up 12 word pages and for me, that's like triple my average chapter length so yeah, pretty big.<strong>

**Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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><p>High school had been a rollercoaster for Gwen and Duncan. They were the ridicule of their peers through the whole time, simply because they refused to mould themselves into what society demanded. No. They insisted they become more unique than any fingerprint could define. Individuality to them was all that people had to create. And was what they wanted to be remembered for.<p>

"Can you imagine," Gwen started, shovelling a spoon full of cereal into her mouth, "us being like, this wicked brother sister graphic design duo, and then, everyone from high school grovelling at our feet, begging for forgiveness?"

Gwen was quite a short girl; her small petite figure always gives her the advantage when running from her brother. Her skin was extremely pale, her usual dark makeup almost causing it to glow. Black and teal hair hung down to her shoulders, and her eyes burned with the most intimidating shade of onyx.

Duncan, who was filling his mouth with the same breakfast cereal, laughed through a mouthful of food. "Now that would make it all worth it. I can totally imagine McAdams just wailing at our doorstep," he paused "Oh Gwen, Duncan, I'm so sorry I treated you so badly in high school, I mean now that your famous, can we be friends?" he put on an unnaturally high accent, and bobbled his head back and forth to imitate their high school tormentor.

Duncan seemed to have received the other end of the family genes. Long, thin and lanky, Duncan had an unnaturally long torso, with pointed facial features. Anyone who would meet him would always notice his bright teal eyes. His face was studded with piercings, and he had somehow styled his hair into a lime green Mohawk; he had dyed his hair the same day as his sister.

Gwen snorted on her spoon. "But seriously, just think what this internship could lead to: a job at a top design agency, then our own company, and next thing you know, our art will be all over rock albums and energy drinks!" she exclaimed, still getting over the fact that they had been accepted in the first place. Seriously, they were fresh out of high school!

"I know man. But I always knew we'd get it. We're just naturally brilliant. With my amazing graffiti skills and you're-" he paused, deliberately delaying his answer. "You're _sisterly support_, we're unstoppable." Duncan replied, slurping the excess milk from his bowl noisily. Gwen scoffed, shoving Duncan in the arm.

"You're just lucky I got you off the streets! Besides, it's my sketches that pull the whole thing together." Gwen argued. Duncan, who chose to not respond, earned himself another shove from his sister, only this one was much more aggressive.

Duncan, still drinking his milk, choked from Gwen's shove, and ended up spluttering milk and saliva all over the kitchen bench. Laughing madly, Gwen rose from her stool and put her empty bowl in the sink.

"Hurry up, big head. If we're late on the first day I will see to it that you will die from my easel." She instructed, skipping up the stairs to get ready. Recovering from his coughing fit, Duncan started to clean up his mess with a tea towel.

"Not before I poison you with spray paint." He replied smoothly, putting his bowl in the sink also and following his sister up the stairs. Gwen laughed at his death threat.

"And people wonder how on earth we're twins. Could we be more alike?" Gwen commented, slowly inching backwards.

"Well, if you really wanna be like me, you could always rob a bank." He suggested, wiggling his eyebrows."Or bring home a guy every night." He added cheekily. Gwen huffed, pushing Duncan backwards and rushing down the hall suddenly.

"I DIBS THE BATHROOM FIRST!" she yelled, reaching the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. Duncan reached the door a few seconds later, and cursed under his breath as he heard the door lock on the other side.

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><p>Every button, every seam, heck, every fibre of fabric was in place. Her gray pinstriped suit was in every way imaginable, immaculate. She had made sure of it. Tucking her chestnut hair behind her ears, she stared scrutinisingly as she proceeded to put shiny pearl earrings into her earlobes. From behind, her mother approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her smile just screamed: "I am so proud. Imagine when I tell the girls at tennis".<p>

Courtney was a very pretty girl. Her Hispanic parents afforded her with a wonderful sun kissed tan. Her hair was a sweet shade of light brown, and her onyx eyes could unhinge any alibi that anyone dared to tell her.

"Hi mum." She said, putting her second earring in. Her mother turned her around and stared at her daughter.

"Look at you. It seemed like almost yesterday that you made your first spreadsheet. And here you are, out of high school and already with a management internship." She said, on the verge of tears. Courtney smiled.

"Even if it is with that eel-"

"Mum." Courtney interrupted. If she had one dollar for every time she would go on about him... "Please give it up. It's all part of my plan. Don't worry. Daddy'll have two businesses under his wing very soon. Just give me 6 months, a year max." She explained ambitiously, her back extra straight. Courtney's mum shrugged patronisingly.

"I know. Just be careful. He's been known to cut corners." She said as Courtney's dad joined them in front of the mirror. He smiled, several wrinkles forming around his face with the muscle movement. He took his daughter's hand in his and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"My little girl, all grown up..." he muttered, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. "We're _so_ proud of you." He whispered, kissing her cheek. Courtney giggled lightly, trying to pull away from her parents' cloying praise.

"Thanks, guys. But don't worry. I'll be fine." She said firmly, checking her watch. She had 45 minutes. "I have to go, got be early for the first day." She decided picking up her cream manila folder from the table, making sure nothing important had fallen out.

Courtney kissed each of her parents goodbye, and strutted out of her double doors. Getting into her silver Porsche (an 18th birthday present from her parents) she turned the key, relishing the soft purr of the engine. Sighing slightly, she put her foot on the accelerator and went over her plan in her mind.

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><p>"Morning, sis!"<p>

"Go away, Geoff!"

His fingers curled around the camera, zooming in on his sister's face, which was distorted from sleep. She shoved it out of her face groggily, but Geoff proceeded to follow her.

"Come on, Georgie, just say something. This day will go in the history books! The day that a director is born!" he said melodramatically, shoving the camera back into his sister's face. Sighing heavily, she pushed some stray hairs out of her line of vision and turned to address the camera.

"Congratulations, Geoff. You finally managed to achieve something that isn't related to organising half the school's intoxication. To be honest I don't know who in their right minds would even consider you for a directing internship, but I guess someone there must be a party animal. Now get out of my room and go make your directing dreams come true." She said unenthusiastically, her teal eyes not blinking. Geoff smiled.

"Ok, not what I expected, but pretty righteous nonetheless. Thanks, Dudette!" he replied, steering the camera out of his sister's room, swerving around the hallways like a child.

Geoff had the appearance of a lazy cowboy. His solid build gave him the confidence to always have his chest exposed with an open pink shirt, and his permanently messy blonde hair was covered by a large cowboy hat. His face was long, and his blue eyes always seemed to be relaxed in any situation.

Entering the kitchen, his camera rested on his laid back Bohemian parents, who allowed Geoff to throw the most out of control parties in the city without getting grounded. Geoff's smile grew.

"Parentals! Hey! Got any words for my annual tribute video of the day that I finally grew up?" Geoff asked pointing his camcorder at his parents' relaxed faces. His father was the first to speak.

"Geoffie! Dude! We're super proud of you! A director! Man when I knocked up your mother on the beach I was certain that we made a screw up-"

A shrill growl came from the pit of his mother's throat, her fingers passing in front of her neck. His father was quick to silent himself.

"Geoff, we're really happy for you, and we hope that you go out there and become the best director the world has ever seen! Rock on, dude." His mother said, making a rock sign with her right hand.

"Yeah, what you're mother said." His father added with a sheepish grin.

Geoff mirrored the rock gesture with a smile, turning the camera around to film himself.

"So there you have it. My rockin' family's approval plus my undeniable directing skills equals the greatest movies ever made. Watch out, Spielberg, cause I'm about to party! Over and out!" he finished his recording with a smile as he switched off the camcorder.

He slipped his camcorder into his denim shorts and went to the door.

"Bye Parentals!" he called; their smooth voices echoing with a reply from the kitchen.

"Bye Georgie!"

"Get out of here already!"

And with that, he headed out the door.

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><p>Her footsteps were rushed, her high heels echoing off the pavement. Her hair seemed intent on getting in her way every two seconds, her hands brushing stray hairs out of her face frequently.<p>

Heather's hair was raven black, and reached down to her waist. She was extremely tall, and the high heels she was wearing only made her look even skinnier. Her Asian heritage earned her small, devious eyes, which actually suited her perfectly. In fact, they were such a dark shade of brown they almost looked hollow.

She had about a dozen different things in her hand at once, the most dominant of which being a map.

Consulting it every few minutes, she was too proud to admit she was lost. Craning her neck around corners, she didn't feel like asking any people walking past her. She was so engrossed in finding her way around the new city she almost didn't hear her phone ringing from her ebony bag.

Grunting in frustration, she threw her hand into her bag and fished around for the vibrating phone. Feeling around for a few seconds, her fingers finally clasped around the little machine and tore it from her bag. Pressing the little green button she pressed the phone against her cheek.

"What?" she asked, the misfortune of the day showing through her voice.

"Heather?"

Heather almost stopped walking, but thought better of it with a glance at the mosh-pit of city inhabitants. Composing herself, her mind was ticking frantically, wondering what to say.

"Hi mum," she said, exasperated. She mentally cursed herself. _Great, now I sound venerable._

"How are you?" her mother asked, her voice concerned. Heather sighed. Taking a deep breath she responded in the most confident way she could manage.

"Actually I'm great. I have this amazing apartment in the city, made a few friends, and I'm on my way to work." She said, making sure her voice wasn't shaking. She could hear her mother's surprised gasp.

"You have a job? Where?" she asked, sounding interested. Heather smiled. _Perfect._ She swerved through a few people before she replied again.

"Well, I just happened to get an acting contract! I start shooting today!" she said, not trying to mask the pride in her own voice. This was perfect. She didn't have to lie, and her mother had finally gotten the message. She just hoped she would pass it on to her father.

"That's great honey. I guess you proved us wrong." She said softly, though she couldn't seem to hide the sadness she was feeling. Heather could hear it too.

"But, you know, if anything goes wrong-"her mother started.

"Which it won't" Heather interrupted, hoping this would prove her point further. Her mother sighed. Heather glanced down at her map again, and realised that she had missed her street.

"Yes of course. But on the off occasion, do you think you could-"

"I know what you're going to say and it won't work!" Heather yelled, earning her a confused glare from some passerby's. "There is no way I'm going back there and nothing you say can change my mind. I've made a life here and I'm not leaving anytime soon!"

Without waiting for her mother's reply, she hung up and threw her phone in her bag angrily. Breathing heavily, she attempted to compose herself before revisiting her map again.

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><p>Sunlight flooded through the open window, and shone down upon his slumped figure. The shadow cast over him was mirrored on the opposite wall, creating a warm atmosphere around the musician. The wooden instrument felt smooth underneath his calloused palms, and the sensation of strumming his fingers across the strings was the only thing that put him at ease.<p>

Strumming a few chords, Trent tried to add in a melody, and quickly recorded his composition on some spare sheet music. This was how he spent most of his mornings.

This morning, in an attempt to wow his boss on his first day, Trent was trying to compose a jingle for a toothpaste brand. Even though his instincts were screaming for him to stop, he pushed through, thinking about how his internship could open doors in his music career.

With a basic melody and chords structure determined, Trent opened his mouth and improvised some lyrics.

**If you're teeth are feeling dirty.**

**You shouldn't be spending thirty**

**Dollars. Just go and buy some**

**Minty fresh McLean Paste!**

"McLean Paste only 99 cents" Trent finished with a cheesy line in a very unenthusiastic voice. Writing a song that was so juvenile so... immature made his skin crawl.

_Suck it up. _He thought. _This could lead to a record deal._

Trent had jet black hair, which always seemed to look extremely messy but perfectly styled at the same time. His broad shoulders always helped him hold a guitar easily, and his face was unusually long. But the most noticeable thing about Trent was his eyes. They shone through his dark hair, in the brightest shade of emerald.

Lifting himself off the couch, he placed his guitar (Bruno, as he called it) into his case and secured it shut. Walking towards the kitchen, he spotted a large envelope sitting on the granite bench. Approaching it carefully, Trent saw that there was a note attached to it.

Itching with curiosity, Trent unstuck the note. The paper unfolded easily, and revealed his mother's rushed, cursive penmanship. Trent read it aloud.

"_This came in the mail this morning... look at the logo._

_Love Mum."_

Intrigued, Trent followed his instructions, his gaze shifting to the corner of the envelope. There, printed all too clearly, was a black and white guitar, piano and drum kit, with the letters: TCM underneath it.

Heart hammering, Trent tore open the envelope, careful not to rip anything in the process. There were about ten sheets of paper inside, and the first thing Trent saw was the cover letter. In the corner again was the TCM logo, and Trent's stomach almost leapt out of his mouth when he read:

_Dear Mr. McAdams,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been offered a placement at the Toronto College of Music, in the applied departments of Recording and Composition. After careful review of your high school reports, we have deemed you eligible to undertake the courses that we offer at the College._

_Please find attached some documents regarding your final enrolment and accommodation. First Semester begins on Monday the 3rd September, please see to it that you submit the forms provided no later than the 1st of August._

_We look forward to meeting you, and we wish your education with TCM will lead you further into your musical endeavours._

_Sincerely,_

_TCM._

Trent couldn't help but fist pump into the air triumphantly. It had been his dream to attend the College from the moment he began playing guitar. And now, in conjunction with his internship, he was bound to get a recording contract. A new sense of confidence was swelling up in his chest.

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><p>The clock read 11:15. The new interns were due to meet their new boss in 15 minutes. Gwen and Duncan sat together, both deeply engrossed in a conversation about their family reunion. Courtney sat across from them, her back straight and her manila folder in her lap. She was eyeing them suspiciously. Duncan caught sight of this and winked at her, causing Courtney to gasp in disgust, and Gwen to punch him in the arm.<p>

"We haven't even started and _already _you're hitting on girls?" Gwen whisper-yelled in surprise. Duncan simply shrugged, his signature grin plastered to his face.

They were the only ones there so far.

_Good. _Thought Courtney, _if these two are my only competition-_

It seemed she spoke, or thought, too soon. At that very moment in came Geoff, smashing the doors open. His eyes were alive with enthusiasm, and the grin on his face showed every one of his dazzling teeth. He whooped in excitement, fist pumping in the air.

"Hey, Hey Dude and Dudettes!" he exclaimed, gliding over to where they were seated. "I'm Geoff Masters! Directing Internship." He said, extending a hand to Duncan. Duncan eyed him skeptically, but took his hand.

"Duncan Bates. Graphic Design." He said simply, still debating whether or not he should trust the energetic blonde. Geoff smiled.

"So you're into art huh?" Duncan nodded. "That sounds righteous! What about you?" Geoff added, now talking to Gwen. She narrowed her eyes at him, her pupils disappearing between her dark eyeliner. Her lips pursed and she took his hand reluctantly.

"Gwen. Graphic Design." She replied softly, releasing Geoff's hand immediately. She looked away, hoping he would move onto Courtney, however, this wasn't the case. Geoff continued to stare at her, the same goofy smile toying with his mouth. Gwen turned to face him again.

"What?" she asked, feeling irked. Geoff shrugged.

"Do you have a last name?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, but it's not like you need to know that, stalker." Gwen retorted, her eyes darting back to her lap, which seemed a whole lot more interesting to Gwen. Geoff looked taken aback by Gwen's outburst, but quickly composed himself.

"Ok, Dudette, just being polite." He said lightly, as he proceeded to interrogate Courtney. However, before he could do so, the doors were slammed open by Heather. She was exhausted. Her breathing was heavy, the map from earlier crushed in her fist. She leaned against the door frame for support. Duncan couldn't resist but stifle a laugh.

Heather shot him a glare, to which Duncan replied with a wink. The smallest shade of crimson rose to her cheeks for only a second.

"Is...this...the...internship...program?" Heather wheezed, clutching her chest. Geoff approached her.

"It sure is. Hey, Dudette, I'm Geoff Masters, Directing Internship." He said again, extending his hand once more. Heather took it, but her eyes were scanning him thoroughly.

"Heather Long. Acting." She replied with authority in her voice. Geoff grinned.

"Oh that's sweet! Maybe you could star in one of my movies!" he suggested. Heather faked an ecstatic gasp.

"Oh wow! I'll give you a call when my career is in the toilet!" she spat, as she strutted towards a seat next to Courtney. She dumped herself down, not caring to acknowledge anyone else there. Geoff seemed deflated, but still proceeded to introduce himself to Courtney.

"Hey," he said simply, assuming that she had heard him ask for everyone else's information. He was quite right. She grasped his hand with a sweet smile.

"I'm Courtney Lopez. Management Internship." She introduced, shaking his hand warmly. Geoff smirked back.

"Cool, cool, so you wanna be all our bosses, huh?" he asked. Courtney smiled.

"You have no idea." Courtney replied vaguely, her mind once again reviewing her plan. Geoff went to sit down, and found himself next to Gwen, who didn't seem pleased.

The five of them sat in silence for a few minutes, and soon enough it was 11:25. With 5 minutes remaining, everyone assumed that they were all the people that were coming.

But that was before the door opened one last time.

He stood tall, with his guitar in one hand and a warm, friendly smile on his face. Gwen and Duncan stood up, outraged.

"Trent?" Gwen gasped.

"McAdams?" Duncan exclaimed.

"Gwen? Duncan?" Trent gaped in disbelief. He seemed to have shrunk under their dangerous glares, and the three others just stared in confusion.

"Do you guys know each other?" Courtney enquired, staring from Gwen, to Duncan, to Trent. Duncan laughed; the most animalistic cackle that couldn't be related to something amusing.

"Know him? We loathe his guts!" he bellowed, staring at the musician in disgust. Trent walked up to them, his face swimming in guilt. Heather, Geoff and Courtney stared at the trio, mouths open.

"He, he, he-"Gwen could only manage the single pronoun, as memories of high school came flooding back to her at the sight of Trent. Her insides were bubbling with rage.

Trent melted under their burning stares.

"Look, about that. I was a jerk in high school. I'm really sorry-"

"Sorry? Sorry?" Gwen yelled, stamping her foot on the floor.

"I knew this internship was too good to be true!" she muttered under her breath. Duncan sat down next to her draping his arm over her shoulder. He shot one last venomous stare in Trent's direction before tending to his sister.

Trent sighed.

"Um, Hey. I'm Trent McAdams, and I have a Music Internship." He introduced awkwardly, taking the remaining seat next to Courtney. No one replied, simply because now everyone assumed that Trent wasn't someone to converse with.

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><p>The interns sat in silence for the remainder of the wait. No one dared speak; the memory of the previous moment still painfully vivid in their minds. Gwen was still huddled in a corner with Duncan still holding her. Suddenly, at the precise moment when the clock struck 11:30, a door to their right swung open, as if controlled by some invisible force.<p>

Putting two and two together, the interns all stood up and filed into the room silently. Everyone gasped. They had just entered a boardroom. A long mahogany table ran along the length of the room, sleek leather chairs stationed at its sides. A plasma television hung upon the wall in front of them, and the remainder of the walls were nothing but glass windows. Sunlight and pollution poured through, and when the clouds would clear, the view of the city was impeccable.

Two men were standing in the room. One was stationed at the door, a small smirk playing with his lips. He seemed to be fingering a small remote control in his enormous hands. His little hair was covered curiously, by a small chef's hat, and his burly appearance clearly didn't suit the ebony tuxedo he was wearing.

The second man, however, everyone recognised immediately. His sleek black hair spilled elegantly from his rounded face, the smallest bit of stubble shaping his chin. He too, was wearing a suit, and a smirk was also stretching his aged face; though his was much bigger than his companion's. It seemed to shine with something that unnerved the interns slightly: greed.

"Chris McLean!" Courtney exclaimed, rushing to his side. She opened her manila folder and pulled out several spreadsheets, demanding his attention.

"I've come up with a few ideas to minimize spending and maximize sales. I've evaluated the last financial year's figures and-"

"Woah, woah woah!" Chris interrupted, prying Courtney and her manila folder away. "Before we get talking about business, we all need to sit down." He said, gesturing to the multiple seats before them. Sighing, everyone took a chair and sat down. Chris took a seat opposite them, his eyes still hungry.

"Welcome, kiddies, to McLean Advertising. I'm Chris McLean, and I look forward to _working _with you for the next few years." Chris said, grinning at the man standing behind them. A soft chuckle rumbled from his throat, and the interns were beginning to get curious.

"Now," he continued, "before you guys were accepted as interns I made you sign contracts right?" he eased in, it sounded as though he was treading carefully. He waited for everyone to nod slowly before continuing.

"Okay then. Now just keep that in mind..." he said mysteriously. Chris then ducked underneath the table, his frustrated grunts, erupting from the interns' feet. Finally he managed to haul six forty-page contracts onto the table, the weight of the paper thudding against the wooden surface. Gwen, Trent and Courtney all flinched slightly at the collision.

"Ok..." Chris said absent-mindedly to himself. "Uh... Heather-" he picked up the first contract and handed it to its owner, "Duncan-" Duncan grabbed his contract, eyes narrowing, "Gwen-" the weight of the contract looked as though it would snap Gwen's arms in two "Geoff-"

"Present!" he piped up happily. Everyone turned their gazes on him, and his voice seemed to have frozen in his throat. "Uh, just a joke... hehehe" he laughed feebly to himself as he took his contract silently.

Chris sighed and redirected the interns' attention to the contracts. "Trent-"Trent had to lean his guitar against the table precariously so he could take his contract with both hands, "aaand..." Chris added, his voice rising slightly, "Courtney." The brunette took her contract swiftly into her eager hands.

Chris straightened up in his chair, the same eerie smile returning to his mouth. "Clayton, if you please," he said vaguely, gesturing towards the interns at the man behind them. The burly man grunted as he approached the table.

His hand dived into his breast pocket, retrieving six miniature ultraviolet torches. His teeth glinted maliciously in the sunlight.

"And I'd also like to introduce my assistant, the man who's been trying to hook up with my sister since forever, Clayton Hatchet." Clayton's face twisted, his cheeks burning. The interns tried their best to silence their giggles, as the image of the large man hitting on a woman who looked identical to Chris flashed through Duncan's mind.

Grumbling, Clayton handed each of the interns a torch, which almost looked like toothpicks in his hands. The interns were thrown further into confusion. Chris stopped laughing to himself and returned to the topic at hand.

"Now if you will all turn to page thirty nine of your contracts." Chris said, authority dripping off his voice. The interns complied, heaving almost all of the pages of their contracts over only to see a completely blank page. Heather raised an eyebrow at the CEO.

"And now..." his voice swelled, excitement glittering across his face. "Can you please turn your torches on and shine it on your page!"

Still puzzled, the interns did as they were told. Turning the torches on and directing the beam of light to their blank page, Chris relished watching as each one of their faces flashed into horror. Under the ultraviolet light, revealed a whole other page of the contract, concealed by the oldest trick in the book-invisible ink. Courtney was the first to speak.

" You said that was a re-print! This must be illegal!" she cried, her voice shrill. Chris shook his head, unable to contain his glee.

"Nope. Aren't loopholes just dandy?" he replied. "But wait! There's more!"

The interns groaned as Chris took out another copy of the contract from under the table and turned to the corresponding page. On his contract, however, the ink was clearly visible. Chris cleared his throat dramatically and read aloud:

"As stated on page 13, paragraph 5, I am bound to work for Chris McLean for a period of two years. This not only includes internship, but any other post available within the Chris McLean franchise. My post will be determined via a briefing on the first day of my employment by Chris McLean-"

"Wait what?" Trent roared, gripping the neck of his guitar. "You're saying that there's a chance that you won't let us be interns?" he asked. Chris grinned.

"No, of course not." He let them all sigh in relief before adding: "There's _no _chance I'm gonna let you be interns! Who would? Seriously, you're fresh out of high school!"

The room exploded in outraged protests. Courtney rambled on about the illegality of the situation, her voice getting painfully higher. Heather was fuming in her seat, though her eyes were filled with worry. Trent was sitting still, wondering how this could have an impact on his music career. Gwen and Duncan were complaining in sync, the most audible of their cries including "rock covers" and "energy drinks", Geoff's mouth was wide open, trying to find the positives in the situation, and a way to edit his director movie.

After Chris fed off their satisfying anger, he raised his hands to silence them. They ceased talking after a few tries, and Chris was still grinning broadly.

"Now... I bet you're wondering where I'm gonna make you work." He said nonchalantly, talking as if he hadn't just shattered six teenager's dreams. "Well, why don't you take a look at _this"_ Chris threw a newspaper down on the table, staring at the headline in disgust. The interns all leaned forwards to get a good look at it. They all read silently.

_McLEAN-MART LOOSES LAWSUIT!_

_Chris McLean, successful franchise owner, will perhaps now learn to treat his employees with respect. Notorious for cutting corners, Chris has violated countless heath code restrictions, and his employees had suffered enough. Why had they not been able to quit until now? Well, it seems that Chris also has his way with legal documents; weaving painfully detailed contracts that keep his employees stuck with him must be the only thing he has a flare for._

_The employees at McLean-Mart, Chris' department store, had finally received justice last Tuesday. With the order of the judge, Chris was forced to let every single one of his employees at McLean-Mart go-_

"No way!" Courtney screeched in realisation, her eyes burning with fury. Chris chuckled.

"Impressive. Looks like we know who the brains is." He replied smoothly. Duncan scrunched up the newspaper suddenly, causing Trent, Heather and Geoff to flinch, all of which were still reading. With a soft growl, he threw the article across the room in a fit of rage.

"There is _no _way I'm wearing a stupid apron and being your check-out-chick!" he rumbled, his fists clenched. Gwen hit Duncan in the back and whispered his name curtly.

"Well, I'm very sorry, Duncan but if there's a will," he said, stroking the contracts "there's a _way_. Heather slammed her hand onto the smooth desk, the collision rumbling the already unstable atmosphere.

"We're not even qualified!" she wailed, her voice strained. Chris shurgged and Cheff muttered something that sounded suspiciously like:"That's never stopped him before."

The boardroom exploded in even more protests, every single one of the interns out of their chairs yelling at Chris' face. No words were comprehensible, but anyone from a mile away would tell that people were angry.

Their hateful slurs seemed to have no affect on Chris, in fact he seemed to be enjoying himself. He simply smiled and yelled over everyone:

"You start Monday morning, 7am _sharp_! Don't be late!"

And with that, he strutted out the door and left the raging teens behind.

* * *

><p><strong>And that is the end of that!<strong>

**Oh, i made up TCM, just cause i wanted to:)**

**How will the teens survive at McLean-Mart?  
>Why did I pick Trent to be the high school tormenttor?<br>Why are Duncan and Gwen siblings?**

**these questions may are may** **not be answered in the next installment, but if you want to know for sure, you could always review (gestures towards review button)**

**Byee :)**


	3. Dreams, Freezers and Devon Jospeh's

**And here is chapter two!**

**Wow, i though the first chaper was long, this is 16 word pages. Wow, but the next one is a bit shorter, so i guess it balances it out?  
>I don't own anything as usual, and be sure to<strong>

**Read, Review and Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"A department store?" her mother wailed, arms flailing in the air hysterically. Her father was fuming, and Courtney's mind was racing. How could she be so naive to trust Chris McLean? When she's running for office she <em>cannot <em>have records of her being a-the very word made her skin crawl- check out chick.

"You know this all wouldn't have happened if you just came and worked for me." Her father said, his eyes desperate. Courtney stood from her chair.

"Daddy, _please _don't go into that again! I'm already in a big enough mess without you reminding me that I'm working _for_ your rival!" she screeched, on the verge of tears.

Courtney's father was the CEO of Lopez Advertising-Chris' competing business. It was common knowledge to everyone in Toronto that Chris McLean and Javier Lopez were at each other's throats. If Javier did something, Chris would've done the same thing within a couple of weeks. Courtney thought that working behind enemy lines would give her an insight into how Chris' business ticked, and she could steal the business from under Chris' feet for her father. In fact she had it all planned out! First she would act like a model intern, then at the stroke of midnight, she would break in and-

"We're taking legal action!" her mother insisted, interrupting her daughter's train of thought. Her father was nodding vigorously as she dashed for the phone. Suddenly Courtney's brain exploded with an epiphany. _Legal action..._

"Stop!" she wailed, freezing her parents in their spots. Courtney's mum rounded on her daughter.

"Courtney, I will not have you working in front of a check out for two whole years!" she said through gritted teeth. Courtney was completely calm.

"Don't worry. I won't be working there for too long." She said mysteriously, walking back to her room to concoct her next major plan. It was so simple that she wondered why she hadn't thought of it sooner.

_Just grit your teeth, and slowly rise to the top. Then when Chris least expects it, bombard him with a lawsuit, and win ownership of his company!_ Courtney smiled deviously. Her genius sometimes surprised herself.

* * *

><p>Tangled in a web of sheets, tossing and turning involuntarily, perhaps she thought it would rid her mind of the horrible images that flashed through her mind.<p>

There she was, perched under a tree, sketching intently. She had no idea what she was creating, but the process of which put her completely at ease. Burning with anticipation, she let her hand glide across the paper and discover just what she was drawing. It was immensely satisfying. Her picture was starting to take shape. Shading where necessary, she smiled.

Suddenly the sunlight flowing onto her was blocked by a towering shadow. Puzzled she raised her eyes, only to meet a pair of emerald ones. They were glinted with evil glee, as Trent's hand swiped down upon her drawing, scribbling across her creation with a black marker; her artwork destroyed. Gwen could feel her heart breaking. She stared straight into Trent's devilish glare, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. Trent cackled before disappearing in a wisp of ebony smoke.

The scene dissolved, whirring colours dizzying her sleeping brain. In the midst of the swirl, she heard Duncan's disembodied voice echo through her ears.

"I don't trust anyone who's friends with that pretty boy!" his words cut through Gwen, whose own voice replied:

"Stop it Duncan! Trent's really sweet. He loves me." She heard herself wailing these words, but uttering them filled her with the most unpleasant feeling. She cursed her conscience for haunting her with the memories she had hoped were forgotten. She remembered Duncan huffing and adding.

"Does he?"

The scene in front of her materialized, the sight of which made Gwen's sleeping figure spasm in bed. She was at a party. _The _party. She was dressed in a very low cut ebony dress, complete with a corset with a zip up the back. She hung onto Trent's arm like a parasite. It was disgusting just how hard she had fallen for him. He took her face in his hand, staring into her eyes with a smile.

"You're so beautiful." He gushed over the deafening music, smiling. Gwen melted under Trent's intoxicating stare. She giggled.

"You know I'll always love you, Gwen." Trent added huskily, his breath tickling Gwen's exposed neck. She shivered with ecstasy at the sensation. She knew it. She was in love. She couldn't help but swoon in the middle of the mindless dancing teenagers.

"Close your eyes." He whispered, his nose brushing up against hers. Assuming he was going to kiss her, she willingly obliged, imagining Trent's soft lips against her own. Smiling slightly, Trent slowly moved behind Gwen, holding her by the waist.

It all happened so quickly. Within the span of about two seconds, a loud zipping noise jolted Gwen out of her infatuation. Her chest suddenly felt a breeze of fresh air, and the sound of her peers' jubilant laughter echoed in her ears. Her eyes snapped open to find her entire chest exposed for everyone to see. She wrapped her arms over her chest quickly, tears streaming down her face.

She glanced to Trent, and the sight smashed her heart into a million pieces. There he was, holding Gwen's corset with both hands, laughing hysterically. In fact, his laughter seemed like the loudest in Gwen's ears. She couldn't handle it. She fell to her knees, buried by everyone's amplified laughter. She blinked furiously, trying to rid her eyes of tears. She saw Trent throw her corset next to her and walk away.

Gwen quickly retrieved her corset and affixed to herself, shaking. After the hilarity of the situation died down everyone resumed dancing. Gwen sat there alone, knees drawn up to her chest, alabaster cheeks stained with ebony makeup. It gave her face a spooky gray hue.

Her venerable figure started to turn to black mist, the terrifying scene of the party disintegrating. There was more twisting of colour and light, various voices talking over each other. The scenes flashed again and again, Trent scribbling over her picture, her smitten face, everything. They seemed to merge into one miserable flashback.

_"You know I'll always love you-"  
>"I don't trust anyone whose friends with-"<br>"You're so beautiful"  
>"Stop it Duncan!"<br>"Close your-"  
>"He loves me!"<br>"I don't trust anyone-"  
>"You know I'll always-"<br>"Close your eyes"  
>"You know I'll always love you Gwen-"<br>"Does-"  
>"Does-"<br>"Does he?"_

Gwen bolted upright from her mental prison, heart hammering.

* * *

><p>The sunlight flooded the murky windows of the department store. It was an ugly contrast to the dreary feeling that was shared between the "interns", all of which except Geoff. He was swerving through the teens, camcorder in one hand.<p>

"So, Courtney, give me your thoughts on the situation." He said, pointing the camera into the brunette's face. She huffed.

"I'm not at all fazed. I'm devising a plan to rid myself of this hideous post and gain ownership of this company." She said efficiently, earning confused glares from everyone. Geoff cleared his throat.

"Uh, ok. Good luck with that." He said quietly.

"Thank you." She replied, straightening out her grey blazer. Geoff hastily shut off his camcorder when Chris walked in accompanied by a blonde woman. She was dressed in a daggy apron, lined with red fabric, though her unnerving smile shone through her dull attire. Chris was much like the woman, with the same cheeky grin playing at his lips.

"Welcome, store monkeys!" he began, extending his arms. "This is McLean-Mart. Your prison-I mean workplace for the next two years." Everyone groaned, not at all psyched to be there. Chris chuckled.

"Now, I bet you're wondering who this is," he said, gesturing towards the blonde. She was still smiling.

"No, not really..." Gwen said her voice low and raspy.

"Well, kiddies," Chris continued, ignoring Gwen completely, "say hello to Blaineley. She will be your store manager." He introduced Blaineley, and a small chorus of "hey" and "hello" echoed through the dingy store.

"Did you have to scam her into working for you too?" Heather snapped, arms crossed over her chest. Chris looked appalled.

"I am shocked that you would assume so, Heather!" Chris wailed, pressing a hand to his chest. "But yeah, I did." He added.

"Anyway, enough legal manoeuvres. Blaineley is the big cheese around here. Whatever she says goes. If there's any misbehaving, slacking off, or law breaking-"he paused to shoot Duncan a glare, who stared at him innocently, "Blaineley _will_ report you, and I _will _double the duration of your contract faster than you can say "Chris is really, really, really, really, hot."" Everyone stared at him incredulously, but looked relived at the sight of Blaineley's relaxed face. She probably wasn't that strict.

"Now, here are your uniforms-"he said, pulling out a pile of dirty clothes that resembled that of Blaineley's, except their aprons were lined with blue. Everyone groaned again. Chris threw each of them an apron, which everyone caught reluctantly. There were several gasps in horror as they held their uniforms in front of them, wondering when the last time they were washed was.

"I am _not_ wearing this!" Trent roared, throwing the apron on the floor in disgust. Chris laughed. He pulled out a copy of their contracts and held it up like some totem.

"Actually, you are." He said sweetly, depositing the bulky contract back into his pocket, puzzling some of the logical of the teens. Trent scowled and picked his apron back up.

"Recording contract, recording contract, recording contract..." he muttered to himself, pulling the apron over his head, the smell of which repulsing him further. Chris clapped his hands together.

"Ok, that's that. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a business to run." He said casually, heading to the door.

"Bye, Chris!" Blaineley called, waving enthusiastically; it looked sickening.

"See? Why don't all of you adore me?" he replied before slamming the door shut. As soon as Chris disappeared, Blaineley turned on the teens, her smile completely vanished.

"Listen here, you brats. I got scammed into doing this dead-end job just like you, so the least I can do is enjoy myself. So, "she started, an evil glint shining in her eyes, where such sweetness lingered only moment ago.

"Goth Girl and Harry Potter can go and start price tagging." She said sternly, gesturing towards Gwen and Trent. Gwen's eyes widened in hate, and Trent sighed.

"Punk Wanna-be and Daddy's Girl-hit the registers!" she barked. Duncan winked at Courtney, to which she gasped.

"Failed Actress," she said, pointing to Heather, "go to the deli." Heather groaned.

"The deli? Like with raw meat?" she said uneasily, imagining the lack of hygiene that awaited her. Blaineley scoffed.

"No. I want you travel to India." She snapped sarcastically, rendering the Asian quiet. She finally turned to Geoff.

"And Cowboy will be greeter." She finished, waiting for Geoff's face to flash into ire. However, it did quite the opposite.

"Greeter? Righteous!" He exclaimed, a smile on his face. Blaineley narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work! Customers are coming in ten!" she yelled, as everyone scrambled off to their corresponding areas. Blaineley however, pulled up a plastic chair and started reading a magazine.

* * *

><p>At 7:30, the doors of McLean-Mart opened, and in poured the customers, each one of them as curious as the next. Geoff was standing at the door, a smile stretching his face.<p>

"Welcome to McLean-Mart! We hope you enjoy your visit!" he said happily, gesturing towards the isles of products. One customer scoffed.

"I thought this place was gonna close! Didn't all the employees quit?" he said suspiciously, staring at Geoff. His face flashed into panic for a second, before coming up with a sufficient lie.

"Uh, we all applied for the job. I guess we're all really desperate for money." He said lamely, shrugging. The customer laughed.

"Well no offence, kid, but your sense of judgement is as terrible as Chris McLean's service!" he snapped, before walking further into the store. Trying to brush off his insult, Geoff called after the customer in a loud voice:

"Thanks for coming!"

In a corner, Blaineley was staring at him, loathing the fact that he was enjoying himself.

* * *

><p>The silence between Gwen and Trent was intense. Every tag that Gwen stuck echoed in Trent's ears, who was drowning under Gwen's icy exterior. He was the first to speak.<p>

"Gwen I-"

"Shut it!" Gwen snapped, keeping her eyes on the dodgy products she was tagging.

"But Gwen-"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Gwen snapped again. Trent pushed on.

"Please just listen-"

"How is anything that you have to say going change anything? What words in the English language can possibly alter the past, or erase my memory?" Gwen yelled, almost slamming her price gun on the floor. Trent looked straight into her eyes.

"Look, if I could turn back time, I would-"Trent started.

"No, you wouldn't." She interrupted, turning back to her tagging.

"Yes I would!" Trent exclaimed. "Look, I was a stupid, cruel, superficial jerk back then-"

"It was only about six months ago-" Gwen screeched.

"Gwen!" Trent bellowed, rendering her silent. Some shoppers were staring at the scene, but right now Trent couldn't care.

"Look, Gwen, it's just, you don't under-"

"I don't understand?" Gwen finished in blank disbelief, "what is it that I cannot understand? I think you made it pretty clear when you unzipped me in front of half the school!"

"Come on, Gwen, you know that's not what I-"

"Not what you meant?" Gwen interrupted; she seemed to have a knack for finishing sentences that day. "Well what did you mean, Trent? Enlighten me as to what concept of this whole situation I can't get through my thick skull!" Gwen's grip on the price gun was so strong her knuckles were whitening, and given the current shade of her skin that was saying a lot. Trent's eyes shifted uneasily.

"I-look I, things were," Trent sighed, "I can't, not here."

Gwen was millimetres away from throwing her price gun to the ground in anger. Instead she grunted in frustration and turned her back on Trent.

"You had your chance. Don't bother."

Trent said nothing.

* * *

><p>Heather stood in the deli, the smell of raw meat permanently wrinkling her nose. She served the customers, almost taking on a robotic routine. Bag the meat; wrap up the meat; hand the meat to the customer. It was agonising to watch.<p>

A customer with platinum blonde hair walked up. She smiled.

"Can I have one kilo of salami please?" she asked sweetly, her eyes sparkling. Heather couldn't help but smile at this person's optimism.

"Sure." She said, walking towards the salami tray, only to find it empty. She cursed under her breath and turned to the customer.

"We seem to be all out. There should be some in the freezer. I'll be right back." She replied, before walking towards a large slate door. She heaved it open and disappeared into the chilly room. It was painfully cold.

Shivering slightly, she walked through the unknown territory to where a shelf was labelled: Salami. Grinning, she heaved an icy box of salami into her shaking arms and proceeded to exit the freezer. She kept her eyes on the door. It was so cold she could barely think of anything else.

The door was coming closer, almost there, the salami weighing down her arm. Just a few more-

Heather yelped, stubbing her foot on the corner of a shelf. The box of salami flew from her arms, the momentum of Heather's trip sending the salami soaring quickly. Heather was sent toppling down to the ground, landing on the frozen floor with a thud.

She stared at the box, as it glided across the room and collided with the door. The weight of the box sent the door swinging back to its frame, slamming loudly. Heather screamed, dashing to the door. She heard the lock turning from momentum; she was trapped.

"Damn you, physics!" she cried, trying to pull the door open.

"Help! Help! Help! Anyone?" she chanted at the top of her lungs, shivering furiously from her arctic prison.

* * *

><p>The bright, happy chime of the cash register over and over again was enough to send Duncan swirling in a fit of rage; but he thought better of it. He stood there, moving nothing but his arms, serving several faceless customers, and watching them enviously as they exited the building.<p>

Courtney was much the same, though she seemed to be standing a little bit straighter than Duncan was. She opened her cash register for what seemed like the millionth time, to find that she didn't have enough money to make sufficient change for her customer. Sighing, she walked over to Duncan, whose angry facade dissolved at the sight of her.

Ignoring his sudden change of mood, she asked: "Do you have any spare change?" she asked haughtily. Duncan laughed.

"Look, Princess if you want me to take you out you could've asked." He replied cockily, wiggling his eyebrows. Courtney gasped.

"What? No! I'm out of change for my register!" she wailed, shuddering at the idea of the two of them alone together. "So do you have any in your cabinet?" she asked, gesturing towards a small door right in front of Duncan's knees. At this, Duncan grinned.

"I don't know, Princess. I haven't checked." He replied. Courtney huffed at how slow he was.

"Well? Can you?" she asked impatiently. Duncan shook his head, turning his back on her.

"Sorry, Princess, I'm just too darn busy. But if you want you can find out for yourself." He replied, resuming bagging his customer's goods. Courtney gasped.

"Fine!" she retorted, kneeling down. Wondering how she could find her way around this, she attempted to squeeze herself between Duncan legs and the register. Feeling Courtney's strong hands against his legs, Duncan couldn't help but grin triumphantly and groan.

"Ugh!" Courtney exclaimed, repulsed by Duncan's actions. She found her way to the cabinet, but she had done so while pressing her cheek up against Duncan's knee. She fiddled the cabinet open, brushing against Duncan's leg. He giggled.

"Please, Princess, we're working!" He gasped in mock-surprise. Courtney yelped in disgust: "Don't call me Princess!", finally retrieving the cash she had come for. Wondering how to free herself from her incriminating position, she attempted to stand up. She did so successfully, but then found her pressed up against Duncan, who seemed hell-bent on staying put.

"Princess, you're flattering me!" he said slyly, as Courtney turned around, finding her face within millimetres of Duncan's. She tried to wriggle away from Duncan, but his hands were pressed firmly upon the counter.

"Don't call me Princess!" she wailed, Duncan's rushed breaths tickling her neck. She stared into Duncan's eyes...

"Excuse me?" bellowed Courtney's customer. She looked outraged.

"Can you please stop flirting with your co-workers and come here and do your job?" Her customer demanded, staring at Duncan and Courtney's position. Courtney gasped.

"What? I was _not _flirting with him! I would never flirt with such a, a, a-"

She suddenly felt Duncan's arms leave her sides, the pressure of his body no longer compressing her stomach. She glanced around and saw Blaineley, who was shooting daggers at the two. Composing herself, she dashed back to her register, her face on fire.

* * *

><p>Geoff had been greeting people for hours, but still maintained the cheery grin he had when he began. His happiness tore through Blaineley, who seemed determined on wiping the smile of his face. Her mind suddenly popped with an idea. She rushed out of her hiding place and approached Geoff, who had just shaken hands with a brunette girl.<p>

"Geoff!" she said politely, as if greeting an old friend. She draped an arm around his waist and smiled. Geoff returned the grin, but his suspicions ignited at Blaineley's sudden change in mood.

"Hey, Blaineley..." he said, voice faltering.

"Listen," she started, choosing her words carefully. "There's a change in plans. Looks like we don't need a greeter. There's something that's _much_ more essential." She explained, steering Geoff away from the door.

A few minutes later, Geoff returned to his post, only he looked very different. A black wig sat on top of his head, which itched at his scalp. Fake stubble lined his chin, and he was dressed in a classy black tuxedo. In fact, if Chris McLean were to walk in, he would wonder why no one told him that he had an identical twin.

Next to him, was a sign:

_Come and give Chris McLean a piece of your mind!_

Geoff stood nervously, wondering just what a "piece of your mind" consisted of. He glanced towards Blaineley, who gave him thumbs up from a corner. He sighed.

A woman walked in, read the sign, and proceeded to kick and punch "Chris" aggressively.

"This-is-what-you-get-for-torturing-those-kids!" she sounded each punch with a word, and Geoff was bruising like a peach. Wailing under the woman's physical harm, Geoff couldn't hear Blaineley's satisfied laughter from her corner.

* * *

><p>The cold was excruciating. Heather was sitting in the corner of the freezer, knees pressed against her chest to try and keep warm. She was shivering wildly, and unconsciousness was tempting her with the promise of a peaceful sleep.<p>

Her mind was slowly sifting away, the icy temperature blurring her vision. There were several dead animals hanging around her, the grotesque sight adding to her hysteria. Suddenly, there was the most curious shift in light and colour, and the animals around her started to shift shape. Heather, unsure whether she was awake or unconscious, saw a blur of faces, seats and crimson robes.

It looked suspiciously like her graduation ceremony.

Heather flinched, not wanting to revisit the memory. Her peers crowded around her slumped figure, the principal holding an envelope. He opened it, clearing his throat. Hearing the words for a second time seemed much worse.

"And the award for the meanest person goes to, with a total of 96% of the vote, Heather Long!"

Their laughter rang in her ears, more mirthful and ghostly than before. She pressed her hand against her ears, shaking her head violently. In the midst of all their laughter, she could hear strangled cries echoing in the background. She spent hours in her room crying her eyes out that day.

Her former peers vanished, masses of meat standing where they were just moments ago. Heather sighed, before a dead lamb slowly shimmered. Narrowing her eyes from exhaustion, she saw the lamb grow long, blonde hair, and shining blue eyes filled with tears. Lindsay stood before her, her voice high and sorrowful.

"Why were you so mean to me, Heather? I thought we were BFF's!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. Regret swarmed over Heather's cowering figure, engulfing her completely. She shook her head from side to side, hoping this would somehow erase her memory. Lindsay's mouth opened again.

"I thought we were BFF's!" she yelled again, the pain in her voice cutting through Heather's shivering body.

"We are!" she choked, the plummeted temperature making her voice shake also "We are, Lindsay!" she pleaded desperately, telling herself more than telling Lindsay. Lindsay's eyes closed her figure fading.

"Then-then why were you so mean?" she demanded, her voice high and shrill. Heather rocked from side to side. Lindsay's body was disappearing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Heather screamed, tears springing to her eyes at the sight of Lindsay disappearing.

"No! Come back! Come back Lindsay! Lindsay, please!"

One last tormented scream vibrated off the icy walls, before everything vanished and Heather was left alone with dead animals once more. She was still shivering violently as she threw her head into her hands, her salty tears warming her cheeks.

"What am I doing here?" she whispered.

* * *

><p>The clock read 5:30. Customers were filing out of McLean-Mart with their final purchases, stepping past a mangled Geoff, who was nursing his injuries the customers inflicted on him. Blaineley walked over to him and locked the door.<p>

"Get over here! Now!" she barked, her voice echoing through the empty building. They couldn't tell whether she was just acting normal, or if she was genuinely angry.

"Do you know how many complaints I've gotten?" she screamed, everyone lowering their heads (with the exception of Geoff, who found such exertion impossible). "I've had an elderly couple not liking the screaming going on in the isles!" she turned to face Gwen and Trent, who stared at her emotionless.

"I've had customers tell me that the two check out chicks-"

"Don't _you_ call me a _chick!_" Duncan retorted.

"-were trying to get into each other's pants!" Blaineley finished, ignoring Duncan's protests.

"What? There is now way I would ever-"Courtney started, face flushing. Blaineley interrupted her also.

"_And _dozens of customers told me that the deli was out of service for hours!" Blaineley screeched, turning towards-

"Where's Heather?" Duncan asked, glancing around. Everyone was looking for the actress, wondering where she could've gone. Blaineley was fuming.

"Well go and find her!" she ordered as everyone separated.

Gwen looked in the storage area, Trent tried out the back, Geoff ducked in and out of the isles with no luck, and Courtney scanned the car parks suspiciously.

Duncan, however, looked around the last place Heather was seen last- the deli. He jumped the counter with ease, inspecting the trays of raw meat with his nose scrunched. With no sign of her, Duncan sighed and proceeded to jump the counter once more, before his ears perked up at a noise.

It was a painful noise, Duncan's heart strings did indeed get tugged. Following the source of the noise, he found himself pressing his ear up against a large slate door, and listening to the sound of someone crying...

_Heather_

Grabbing hold of the door handle, he twisted it with all the strength he could muster and pushed the door open. The sight was unnerving. There she was; sitting against a wall, knees up to her chest, her face stained with tears.

"Heather?" Duncan said softly. She lifted her eyes. The pain in them made Duncan wince.

"Duncan!" she replied, standing up attempting to run out the door. However, sitting still for hours on end can take a toll on one's legs. Her knees buckled, sending her falling to the floor awkwardly. Duncan couldn't help but chuckle. He started to take off his t-shirt, his light green undershirt remaining.

We walked over to Heather's slumped figure, handing her his skull shirt.

"Here," he offered. "Put this on." He said huskily. Her cheeks became significantly warmer as she took his shirt, and slipped it over her head. The sensation was marvellous on Heather's icy skin. Plus Duncan smelt...

Strong arms scooped up the cowering girl, as Heather's arms snaked around Duncan's neck instinctively. He lifted her up, her skin causing Duncan to shiver. Heather rested her head on Duncan's chest, the warming feeling his body temperature gave her seeing the end of her shivering.

Duncan walked out of the freezer, slamming the door behind him.

"I've found her!" he called, easing Heather over the counter, making sure she was still in his arms. Everyone came rushing towards the deli, exhausted from their frantic running around the store. There was a chorus of gasps at the sight of Heather's frozen figure in Duncan's arms. Courtney face only flashed to panic for a second.

"Thanks," Heather squeaked, as Duncan slowly let her down onto her own feet. She dug her face into the neck of Duncan's shirt, the pleasant room temperature soothing her skin.

"There you are!" snapped Blaineley, no form of concern showing on her face. "You were absent from the deli for four hours! _4_ hours! Do you know how much business we lost because of your slacking off?" The ire in Blaineley's eyes was dangerous.

"I was locked in the freezer!" Heather yelled, her fuming gaze rivalling Blaineley's "I went into to get some salami and tripped. The box hit the door and locked it! I wasn't _slacking off_!" Blaineley walked up to Heather swiftly and raised a hand, but before Blaineley could violate any employee rights regulations, she caught herself. Heather sighed, her eyes closing.

"Just get out of here. All of you!" The venom in Blaineley's voice was enough to send them all rushing to the door as fast as their legs could take them. As soon as all of them were out of the building, they took no care to silence their complaints.

"She's almost as bad as Chris!" started Duncan, tearing his apron from his head furiously.

"Well what did you expect? She's in the same situation as us!" piped up Courtney, brushing her blazer free from department store debris.

"Still, that gives her no right to take her anger out on us." Gwen reasoned. Trent scoffed.

"Funny, you seem to be doing the same thing." He muttered, earning him another hard, angry glare from both Gwen and Duncan. Geoff sighed.

"Well, there's only one thing to do when you're super ticked off…" he started, taking his camcorder in one hand and rubbing yet another bruise with the other. Everyone stared at him, wondering if they actually wanted to know the answer. Geoff smiled.

"Go to a pub of course!" he said brightly, sweeping his camera over his co-workers' surprised stares. Go to a pub? Right after a day of torture?

After a few seconds of contemplation, Heather sighed.

"Sure, anything to stay away from home." She said reluctantly, still stroking the seams of Duncan's shirt.

"Yeah, ok," Duncan added soon after.

"I'll go." Courtney shot immediately. Trent's agreement came next.

"May as well…"

All eyes then fixed on Gwen. Her arms were crossed across her chest, her discarded apron scrunched in her fist. Her eyes narrowed at Geoff.

"Well, unlike you, I don't see the novelty of getting drunk with people I met a week ago." She said flatly. Everyone in the group could almost feel themselves deflating slightly. Geoff zoomed in his camera into her face, her bitter expression now magnified.

"You know me, Pasty." Duncan said hopefully, nudging her in the ribs. Gwen grunted.

"Lucky me." She retorted, her eyes not moving from the spot on the concrete that suddenly seemed extremely interesting. "And get that camera out of my face." She added, pressing her palm into the lens of Geoff's camcorder.

He yelped for a second, before pulling his precious camera away from Gwen's deadly hands. He continued to film, however.

"Come on…" Geoff said childishly, dragging his voice on for what seemed like minutes. Gwen's face twisted, staring now at everyone's faces. Duncan nudged her again.

"I'm your ride, Pasty. You go where I go." He smiled triumphantly at his argument. Gwen's eyes rolled before she sighed tiredly.

"Fine." She said, her lips barely moving. Geoff's smile widened.

"Righteous. Ok guys, I know this awesome place downtown. Just follow me." He instructed, strolling to his mustard jeep. Everyone said their own "o.k.'s before setting off to their respective vehicles.

* * *

><p>Duncan and Gwen were silent. Duncan's hands were firmly on the wheel, and Gwen was staring out the window absent-mindedly. Duncan gave Gwen a playful shove from the driver's seat.<p>

"Come on, Gwen. Lighten up. It won't be that bad." He ensured, keeping his eyes peeled for Geoff's car in the distance. Gwen turned her head towards her brother and groaned.

"Oh my god. That cowboy is rubbing off on you. I'm sorry but if you start wearing open pink shirts and say "righteous" every 2 seconds, I'm gonna have to kill you." Gwen replied, her face emotionless. Duncan retaliated by shoving Gwen's head to the right. Gwen winced, a fake "ouch!" filling the car.

"A deal's a deal." Duncan said, laughing, "But seriously what do you have against Geoff?" he asked. Gwen's playful attitude vanished.

"It's just," she paused, trying to find the right words to phrase what was whizzing around in her mind. "He's just _happy_ all the time. I mean, he's always smiling; it's annoying. I swear, if someone smiles all the time, it's either because they have something to hide, or they're some brainwashed robot." Gwen spewed, not being able to stop once she started. Duncan chuckled, making a right as he saw Geoff's jeep disappear.

"Yeah, well you're frowning all the time, so I don't think you're one to talk." He replied with a smirk. Gwen opened her mouth, before she realised that there was no argument left. She sighed in defeat.

"Touché," she muttered, resuming her staring out the window.

* * *

><p>All five cars pulled up at the curb, the sight of the pub not at all as "righteous" as Geoff claimed it would be. The building was made up of murky brown bricks, and was a midget compared to the towering buildings surrounding it. An emerald neon sign was flashing above the door reading:"Devon Joseph", and the building seemed to be wafting the most dominant smell of liquor.<p>

Everyone stepped out of their cars, having second thoughts about entering the miniature building. Geoff, once again, was the only one ecstatic. He caught sight of their uneasy looks and flipped his camcorder on.

"Now, now guys," he started, flipping his cowboy hat out of his eyes, "don't judge a book by its cover. It's actually a pretty good place, and 'cause I'm tight with the owner, we get free drinks!" he added, earning a few impressed raised eyebrows.

"Well, if it's free then…" trailed off Trent. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. Geoff grinned. Everyone followed suit, and they all walked into the little pub together.

The room that greeted them wasn't very appealing to the eye. It looked as if it was about to fall apart any second. The whole place was lit with dimming lights, affording the place a pleasant warming ambiance. Cream paint was peeling off every wall, and the wooden counter was scattered with splinters. A few people occupied tables, and there were five people slouched in stools at the bar.

"Yo, Deej!" Geoff called, cupping the side of his mouth in an attempt to make his voice louder. From around the corner of the bar emerged a man. His dark skin almost glowed in the low lights, and the smile on his face could brighten anyone's day. He was dressed in a darkening green shirt, a white cap hugging his head. His eyes lit up at the sight of Geoff.

"Hey, Geoff, how's it going?" he asked casually, cleaning a glass with a dish rag that used to be white. Geoff approached the barman, and within a span of two seconds, the pair had exchanged some complicated hand gesture that everyone assumed was their private hand shake. Geoff leaned against the bar, facing his co-workers.

"Guys, this is DJ; he owns the place. DJ-guys; they work with me." Geoff introduced the two parties with a flick of his wrist. DJ eyed the group interestingly. He chuckled, broad shoulders shaking.

"Nice to meet you," he said kindly. "So you're the other guys who were made chumps by Chris McLean." DJ couldn't hide the smugness of his voice, which made Courtney take it as an insult.

"I am nobody's _chump _thank you very much!" she snapped haughtily, blinking rapidly. DJ said nothing.

"So DJ, is the roof free tonight? We're thinking of having a little celebratory drink for the first day." Geoff said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. DJ set his glass down and nodded.

"Yeah, head on up." He replied. Geoff smiled broadly, strutting his way towards a flight of wooden stairs that matched the counter. Everyone followed, not daring to separate themselves from the group. Geoff started to walk up the stairs, but before he could disappear out the ceiling, he turned around to DJ and said: "Thanks a billion!"

Not waiting to hear his friends' reply, Geoff led the way up the stairs, and through the white door that awaited them at the top. The view was spectacular.

The back of the building was exposed from its towering neighbours, revealing a scenic view of Toronto's rushing highway, several cars whizzing across in crimson lights. The sky was studded with silver stars, and in front of them was a small glass patio, which rooved ten maroon recliner chairs and a pine wood coffee table standing in the middle. Sitting in one of the chairs gave people the pleasure of sipping a drink and then indulging themselves of the calming scene of Toronto City.

None of them would ever judge a book by its cover again.

"This is it," Geoff stated, strolling over towards the closest recliner. He flung himself into it clumsily; he almost tipped it over. He exhaled deeply and gestured towards the other chairs to his work mates.

"Best view in Toronto…" Gwen said, in something stuck between a whisper and a mutter. Geoff felt himself smiling.

The rest of them proceeded to fill the chairs, each one sighing in content when the comforting sensation of cushion against skin ridded their memories of their horrific first day.

Everyone was still staring at awe at the scenery surrounding them, and the peaceful silence was only broken when the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped their head towards the door.

There stood a rather scrawny boy, no older than themselves. His hands were shaking under the black tray on top of them, which seated six green bottles. He smiled confidently (though his baby blue eyes betrayed him), revealing a rather irritating or adorable (depending on how one perceives it) gap between his two front teeth. His chestnut hair was slightly dishevelled, and he seemed to shuffle more than walk towards them.

"DJ thought you might want some drinks," he said, extending his arms and placing the tray on the coffee table. He stood there awkwardly, waiting for any of them to grab his offering. Geoff was the first. Almost diving from his seat, Geoff grabbed a bottle in his right hand swiftly.

"Thanks, man." He thanked, taking a sip. Gwen and Duncan grabbed their bottles at the same time, both grinning at yet another thing that made them alike. It wasn't until after Gwen and Duncan both felt the satisfying feeling of the warm liquor swim down their throats did Geoff introduce the boy.

"Guys, this is Cody. He works here after College." Cody waved at them, eyeing the females a little bit more than the males. Courtney was the first to speak.

"What College do you go to?" she asked curiously, she too grasping a bottle and taking a swig.

"ITCT" he replied casually, brushing his bangs away from his line of vision. Trent raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Information Technology College of Toronto?" he gasped. Cody's cheeks flushed red slightly at this comment, "nice. I go to TCM" Trent added, bringing his bottle to his lips.

"Into music, huh?" Cody replied, now feeling more at ease. Trent nodded.

"You have no idea…" he said vaguely, his eyes only casting in Gwen's direction for one second. But Cody was quick. Following the musician's eyes, he found himself staring at the Goth. Cody could feel his insides contract. He tried to tear his eyes away, he really did, but he just couldn't find the will to deprive himself of her flawless white face, her elegant black and teal hair, her piercing onyx eyes, her-

"Excuse me?" Cody snapped out of his momentary lapse in concentration. Gwen stared at Cody, an eyebrow raised. He could tell by the fiery look in her eyes that any efforts of his would be in vain. Sighing, he managed to squeak out a reply: "Sorry, just tried", before descending back down the stairs.

Needless to say, Gwen's mood soured for the rest of the night thanks to Cody's invasive ogling.

* * *

><p>"Hey guys, do you wanna play truth or dare or something?" Geoff suggested after a few minutes of pointless banter. A majority of heads nodded, and Geoff placed his now empty bottle onto the table. With a twist of his fingers the bottle went spinning around too many times to count, before the neck landed right in front of Trent, and its base in front of Courtney.<p>

"Trent, truth or dare?" Courtney asked, although enthusiasm wasn't present in her voice. He chose truth, and Courtney screwed up her face in thought. Her eyes widened at an idea.

"When did you start playing guitar?" she asked, not seeing the novelty of asking questions that would cause him to blush furiously and feel violated. Smiling, Trent was happy to answer his question.

"I was nine. It was my grandad's death anniversary, and we were going through his old stuff. My mum pulled out a guitar and told me he used to play. In fact, he even tried to teach her and my aunts and uncles. When I was born he swore that he would teach me, but he died before I could hold one." He paused to look out to the view before continuing. "I started guitar the following week to make my grandad proud. I've been playing ever since."

Courtney let out a little "aww" at the end of his story, and was appalled that no one else had done so. Her jaw dropped.

"What? It was sad!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, we know, but we just don't feel the need to raise our voices, Princess." Duncan replied, smirking. Courtney grunted.

"Don't, call, me,-"

"Ok who's next?" Geoff bellowed, trying to drown out any potential argument. He sent the bottle rotating again. Its neck landed on Geoff, and its base on Gwen. Geoff whooped at his selection as if he had just won a prize. Gwen simply sunk into her chair, arms firmly crossed against her chest.

"Dare all the way, baby!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. Gwen sighed.

"Go jump off the roof." She demanded flatly, not moving her eyes. Geoff shifted awkwardly.

"But, uh, Dudette, I'd probably die." He said slowly, peering over the edge of the building. Gwen chuckled darkly.

"Exactly." She muttered. Geoff's face fell and sighed.

The rest of the night preceded much the same; everyone had the pleasure of seeing Duncan flash passer-by's, and discovered that Heather came from New York. Finally, when a few hours had passed and the moon was shining down like a blinding light, everyone retired to their cars and drove home to recuperate for another day at McLean-Mart.

* * *

><p><strong>GAH! so long, and it was kinda weird too...<strong>

**Oh i made up ITCT as well, i'm all for creating colleges :)**

**Anyways, so now things are starting to happen, but there is still much more in store, i promise you that!**

**So, review and keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter, where things get intreresting...**

**BFG**


	4. Why Wrecking a Store Has its Advantages

**Hi**

**Here is chapter 3. Has it been a while? If so, I apologize.**

**Read, Review and Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Geoff was sitting in his room, reviewing a whole week's footage and shelving them in their rightful places. His windowless room had a soft glow to it, the dimming light blending with the green walls. His bed was nothing but a murky white mattress and a doona, and a whole wall was dedicated to a colossal shelving system of DVD's. It was truly a sight.<p>

Sighing contently as he labelled the final disc, he picked up all the new discs in his hands and proceeded to file them onto the shelf. All in chronological order, Geoff had enough footage to make a highly successful movie. The good and the bad all stored in one convenient place.

Without sorting to occupy him, Geoff absent-mindedly stroked his fingers across the DVDs standing on the shelves, all labelled with a date and an event. He passed many that triggered memories; _25/03/09-Mum's Birthday, 22/12/10-Pre-Christmas Party,_ but one made him stop and stare at the flashback creeping into his mind.

_27/07/11- DO NOT WATCH_!

It was terrible. His insides were slowly dividing, debating as to whether he should disobey his own penmanship and relive the incident, or simply spend the remainder of the night replaying it in his head with the same vividness as the video. He sighed, reluctantly pulling said disc out of its place.

He held it carefully, as if it would break at any moment. Several qualms were swimming in his stomach as he inserted the mini DVD into his DVD player and switched the TV on. Does he really want to…?

It was too late now. After a few seconds of static the TV flashed with the image of the very halls on the other side of his door, crawling with intoxicated teenagers whom he shared classrooms with. He too was in a state of drunkenness, resulting in the camera's angle to be shifting every two seconds due to his slurred movement.

"Ok," his drunk self muttered, talking extra loud to drown out the sound of his peers, "We're here at my righteous end of year bash, and the music's loud, the liquors, like, a whole lot, and there's probably no way we're gonna remember any of it tomorrow!" He finished his introduction with a high pitched whoop, at which the crowd around him responded with a similar sound.

"And the only thing that's missing, it my surfer babe, Bridgette!" he commented, twisting the camera around in search of his girlfriend. Without thinking, he called out her name several times in a voice many would associate with a hyena. He tried to spot bright blonde hair, a baby blue hoodie, any sort of sign that would suggest her presence.

Sighing, he started to look in the rooms, only to find people in his Maths class getting friendly in his parent's bed. After shooing them out furiously, he decided to check his own room. Opening the door roughly, (he didn't bother taking privacy precautions given the fact that it was his place) the sight he saw almost made him wish that he knocked, that way they could've rushed to take advantage of his gullibility.

His jaw dropped, eyes glistening over with warm tears. Through his eyes and the lens of his camera saw his girlfriend, on his bed, her lips pressed firmly across those that did not belong to him. They pulled apart hastily at Geoff's arrival, but the damage was done. Alejandro smirked deviously, prying Bridgette's limp exhausted figure from himself before standing up from Geoff's bed.

"Hola." He said casually, as if he hadn't just been kissing the party boy's girlfriend. Winking at Bridgette, who looked as though she had been robbed of her innocence, Alejandro left the room to rejoin the fray of the party.

"Geoff-"Bridgette squeaked, her voice quaking.

Geoff didn't wait for Bridgette's excuse, or apology, or whatever lied next in her sentence. Shooting her a pained expression that went unseen by the camera Geoff stalked out of the room, shutting the camera off violently.

The screen switched to static again.

Geoff sat still, knees up to his chest, head pounding. Beads of sweat tricked down his forehead. He couldn't bring himself to touch the disc again that night.

* * *

><p>It had been a week since the teens started at McLean-Mart. Every morning saw them getting painfully lectured by Blaineley, and their days were filled with repetitive, mundane activities that were enough excuse for anyone to put their heads in the meat grinder. Ten minutes remained until the doors opened, and Blaineley was giving yet another sour staff briefing.<p>

"Ok, here are today's positions." She started. After the disaster on the first day, Blaineley was determined to switch up the positions each day in the vain hope that she would find a combination that caused the least slip ups. She took care to glare at Heather a little bit longer than anyone else. The Asian stared back, her dark eyes narrowing. It seemed that Blaineley didn't forget easily.

"Cowboy and Delinquent: tagging." Duncan slid Geoff a small grin, to which the party boy mirrored, though anyone who had the pleasure of being around his bubbly personality would know that something had obviously happened because his camcorder was mysteriously absent. Before Duncan could question anything Blaineley's sharp voice rang through the store again.

"Goth girl and Failed Actress, you're at the checkouts." It seemed that Blaineley's insult rendered Heather permanently angry, as she shot Gwen a rather venomous stare. Needless to say, Gwen returned her stare with equal ire.

"Daddy's girl," Blaineley continued, a small evil smile twisting her uncannily white teeth, "Deli." She finished. Courtney's face flashed to panic. Spending the day with raw meat was not what she wanted officials to find when she runs for office. Blaineley relished Courtney's dismay as she finally turned on Trent.

"Harry Potter, greeter."

Trent's mind travelled to Geoff's bruised body the week before and shuddered at the thought of what was in store for him. He said nothing.

"Well? Go on!" Blaineley bellowed, sending the teens rushing to their assigned positions while the blonde pulled out a plastic chair.

* * *

><p>Greeting seemed to come naturally to Trent. He sat poised on a rickety store stool, casually strumming away at his guitar he insisted on carrying around everywhere. His fingers moved elegantly across the strings that they almost looked like a blur. The pleasant sound echoed through the store, making customers smile lightly as they entered.<p>

This was the biggest sense of satisfaction for Trent. Right now, it didn't matter that he was scammed into working a job for two years, or that he was dressed in the daggiest attire known to man. As long as he was there with his guitar and people appreciated his music as much as he did, Trent couldn't help but think that this job wasn't all negatives.

But something took Trent by surprise. The door chimed open, and the musician was in for a blast from the oh-so-painful past, in the form of sleek leather boots and a chiselled chest that saw half of his school swooning; the female half.

His soft emerald eyes hardened, his previous contentment faded away. He gripped his guitar around the neck a bit too firm than necessary, and attempted to keep his eyes down as he strolled up to him, a smug grin plastered to his face.

"Hola." He greeted, eyeing Trent's predicament with a sort of devilish pleasure. He clicked his tongue, and Trent's face felt uncomfortably warmer. The guitar's soft melody fell silent.

"Get out." Trent seethed, to which the man replied with a hearty laugh, though one wouldn't associate it with something amusing.

"No, I think I'll stay for a bit. I see you have definitely made a life for yourself… as a department store greeter." He said, another laugh threatening for burst through his words. Once again, Trent tightened his grip on his guitar, his knuckles whitening slightly.

"You know, if you stuck with me, you would've been working with the most elite musicians in all of-"

"Yeah, well, I didn't, I have a conscience." Trent spat, trying not to think about the possibilities he could've had, if he only sacrificed his good nature. Alejandro snapped his fingers, a small "tsk" escaping his lips.

"Consciences… they are so pesky, don't you think? Always getting in the way… of dreams…" Alejandro said mysteriously, tempting him once again of the opportunities Trent passed up. Alejandro punched Trent in the shoulder, a bit too hard for comfort. Trent winced, and Alejandro chuckled slightly.

"So that's it feels like… I've always wondered…" his sentence collapsed into a small grunt in amusement, and his eyes stared, unfocused and immersed in apparently, deep thought. Trent cocked his head to the side, his eyes still burning with anger.

Alejandro quickly recovered from his brief lapse in concentration and turned to leave. Before he could exit however, he turned his head back, glancing over his shoulder.

"I'm sure we'll meet again, Trent." He said sincerely, flashing him an unnerving smile before disappearing between the automated doors.

* * *

><p>The checkouts were only a few metres away from the front door, so Trent's encounter with Alejandro was clearly visible to Gwen, whose eyes were fixated intently upon the entire moment. Seeing him again, his arrogant smile, his devious eyes, everything reminded her of her high school years more than Trent did.<p>

What did puzzle her however, was Trent's hostile attitude towards the Latino. During their senior year, it was near impossible to catch a glimpse of Alejandro without Trent growing on his side. She couldn't help but wonder what has changed… or who…?

The store had been open for about an hour, and the atmosphere at the check outs were anything but cheerful. Gwen and Heather worked in silence, taking care to block out each other's existence. Their eyes were glued to the tasks at hand, several unpleasant thoughts and death threats racing through their minds. It wasn't until Gwen's cash register chimed open for the millionth time did she curse under her breath. She was out of change.

Flashing a forced smile at her customer, she walked over to Heather. No intake of breath was enough to calm her. Gwen had taken an instant dislike to Heather since their first day; and vice versa, of course.

Gwen cleared her throat, hoping she wouldn't have to resort to conversing with her co-worker. Heather however, didn't respond. She remained in the same position, bagging her goods. Though Gwen couldn't help but notice her back straightened a bit at Gwen's presence.

Sighing heavily (she hoped that this would cause her to turn around also), Gwen slid her eyes closed for a brief moment. She stole a quick glance at her waiting customer before opening her mouth. She found that her voice had taken a rather cold timbre; perhaps it was simply a second nature of hers.

"Do you have any spare change or not, Daddy's Girl?" It seemed that Gwen's words were picked recklessly. With a rather dramatic thud, Heather slammed her palms onto her register and spun around. The degree of her anger caught Gwen completely by surprise.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so harsh… This can't end well.

* * *

><p>The price gun almost seemed like a burden upon the delinquent and party boy's hands. The repetitive task of marking no doubt poorly manufactured products was all that they had to occupy them, well that and themselves.<p>

Geoff was now back to his normal cheerful self, and his camcorder has resumed it usual position within the chasm of Geoff's palm, which was zoomed in on Duncan's laughing face.

The pair had spent the few hours of open time sharing friendly banter about everything from Duncan's most successful crimes, to ways to hide liquor from nosy parents. They could've sworn some customers stared at them in disbelief as they discussed how Duncan managed to get away with robbing a milk bar, but hey, if they were stuck with the dead end job, may as well have fun right?

Blaineley's words, not theirs.

"Ok, how about your best prank at school?" Geoff asked, caught halfway between curiosity and awe. He zoomed in. Duncan tagged another can of McLean Beans before replying with a small grin at the memory.

"Easy: the time I trashed the cafeteria in eighth grade. The year's detention was so worth it." Duncan replied. Suddenly a mind blowing, diabolical, tempting idea sprung to his mind, and once the seed was planted, it tended to grow exceptionally fast in Duncan's thorn bush of a mind.

"Dude! Righteous! How'd you pull it off?" Geoff inquired, once again in awe. Duncan chuckled, hoping Geoff would get the hint at his next action.

"Well, it actually took a team effort." Duncan started, easing in but trying to conceal the real meaning of his words from the passing customers. Geoff nodded slightly and grinned. Duncan seized his pocket knife and plunged it into the lid of the can of McLean Beans he had just tagged. As he spoke, he slowly dragged the knife around, unhinging the lid slyly.

"So, we were eating right, and then, well obviously I had told anyone who would listen of the plans before hand, and then I just got a handful of food and-"

Instead of words, Duncan deemed a practical demonstration much more effective. He lifted the can of beans up to Geoff's half unsuspecting half expectant head and dumped all the contents onto Geoff's previously clean hat. Geoff gasped, watching the sauce with the beans oozing over the brim of his hat, right in front of his eyes. He extended his arms hastily, taking care that no sauce found its way to his camera. This rendered him in quite an interesting position.

Duncan's cackles were intoxicating. Geoff couldn't help but smile and grab one of his products with his free hand. To his advantage, it was McLean Flour. Tearing open the bag hastily, he grabbed as much flour his fingers could manage and approached Duncan.

"Oh, ok," he started, bean sauce now dripping to the floor from his head. "So you just-"

Geoff flung his arms into Duncan's chest, covering it in sickly grey flour with a mad chuckle. A small cloud of flour puffed up into Duncan's face, causing him to cough hoarsely and crave revenge more than anything.

Sneering, Duncan grabbed even more cans and de-lidded them with his knife with impressive precision, and Geoff loaded his arms with as many flour bags he could manage. Turning to face each other, Geoff cast a quick glance for Blaineley. With no sign of their hellish manager, his eyes met Duncan's.

"Bring it." Geoff challenged. It wasn't clear who pulled their arm back first, but after Geoff's final words they pair were bombarding each other with the products they were meant to be tagging, flour and beans spilling everywhere and horrifying customers.

They ran around the store, until Duncan's feet gave way and his back landed on harsh, cold floor. Geoff was quick to follow, landing right next to him with a sickening thud. Geoff's chest tingled at a chilly bar pressed up against his body, and judging by the way Duncan was shaking his head, he too was unaware of his surroundings.

Slowly returning to reality, Duncan's malicious face cracked a smile, when he realised that he and Geoff had landed next to a food trolley. Whooping in excitement, Duncan seized Geoff's arms and heaved him up; he had to hurry because none other than Blaineley had noticed them (along with about half of the store's customers).

Geoff yelped at Duncan's rough handling, and as soon as he found his feet upon the trolley he sought his vengeance by giving the trolley a light push, sending the two trouble makers hurtling down the aisle.

"HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Blaineley's protests went unheard within the screams of customers, and screech of wheels. Instead, she resorted to sprinting after them, her blonde hair billowing behind her raging face.

They zoomed past the Deli, causing many heads to turn, and Courtney to tear off her apron and jump the counter. Customers wailed for her return to work, but bravely pushing her work-aholic tendencies to the side she found herself speeding off behind Blaineley, Geoff and Duncan. Anyone who stood near her would've heard her muttering:

"Save the day and earn brownie points…"

Nearly running over half a dozen flabbergasted customers, Duncan and Geoff's gleeful cries could be heard emitting from a misty cloud of flour, and the barely clean floor was being tainted with liquid beans. They were having the times of their lives, and were headed straight to the cash registers.

* * *

><p>Since Gwen's accidental slip of the tongue, she and Heather had been going off at each other, their customers completely disregarded. Trent had forgotten his greeting duties, and was staring at the two of them in complete disbelief, shifting his head like it was some sinister tennis match. Gwen was next to retort. Her arms were flung into the air as she exclaimed:<p>

"Seriously, all I wanted was change!" Heather laughed viciously.

"About time! Seventeen years of _that_ fashion sense must be enough to make anyone crazy!"She spat. Duncan and Geoff's ecstatic squeals could be heard in the distance, causing Gwen to raise her voice further.

" Wow, you actually are dumber than you look! Besides, like you can talk! You wear so little clothes it can't even be defined as fashion!" The scraping of the wheels was getting louder in their ears. Customers were bellowing for service, and Blaineley's frantic and enraged screams could still be heard in the midst of it. Chaos was a dramatic understatement.

"It's called self confidence! If you tried it, you would look halfway decent!" Heather's voice was as sharp as a blade. Duncan and Geoff were metres away. Blaineley was behind them, and Courtney was behind her. Trent still stood there, staring at the whole scene, paralysed. Customers were starting to rush out the double doors, their groceries forgotten. Gwen opened her mouth, and was the one to administer the final blow.

"FROM THE WAY I SEE IT, IT'S CALLED TAKING ADVANTAGE OF MY BROTHER'S HABIT OF STARTING AT ANYTHING WITH BREASTS! DON'T THINK NO ONE CAUGHT ON WITH THAT FREEZER STUNT-"

Trent could see Duncan and Geoff approaching and sensed that he had to take action. He flung himself through the bustling customers, oxygen running dangerously low. He emerged unscathed, but slightly shaken from compression. Gasping for air, he continued to sprint towards the bickering girls, their arguments now high pitched and almost inaudible.

Before Heather could spit out a retort, Trent lodged himself in between her and Gwen, his arms outstretched and in each of the girls' faces. Their wails of fury were coming at Trent left right and centre, and he could barely make out any of their protests.

"Cut it out! You guys are going to get us-"Trent bellowed over the multiple layers of sound wrapping around the store.

"STAY OUT OF THIS, TRENT!" Gwen's voice was extremely strained.

It was as if the timing was absolutely, and so unfortunately perfect. The precise moment Heather's temper reached its boiling point, she leapt at Gwen with a furious screech. Trent, who was still forced in the middle was pressed up against both girls and sent backwards also. Duncan and Geoff were dangerously close to the cash registers, so close in fact, they were almost parallel to the fighting girls at the same moment they and Trent went flying into the air. And fly, they did. Heather's hands were clasped around Gwen's shoulders, Trent was trapped in the middle, and they all went hurtling…straight into the trolley.

What perfect timing, indeed.

* * *

><p>A large explosion of unopened flour bags and bean cans filled the store, travelling onto Courtney and Blaineley's faces, thus rendering all employees invisible for a few seconds. A loud, unpleasant metal clang reverberated off the walls, followed by 2 lighter thuds and a high-pitched scream. Geoff and Duncan's coughs were the most dominant having received the full blast of flour. The pair were sent spinning in the trolley from the momentum of the girls' collision, and landed in a huge display of toilet paper with a crash. By then all of the customers had made their way out of the store.<p>

After a few seconds, the smoke cleared, and the sight behind it, was truly horrendous. First to emerge were Courtney and Blaineley. Courtney was staring at the cloud nervously. She was covered in ivory flour and small portions of her body were dampened with beans. The reason for her nerves: Blaineley. She looked as if she could've blown up the entire country without a shred of remorse. It was truly unnerving. Every wrinkle of her ungracefully aged face was twisted with rage, her platinum blonde hair dishevelled with flour and murky orange sauce.

The sight that awaited them was even more disastrous. Duncan and Geoff stumbled off the trolley, disoriented, completely drenched in beans, which stuck to their bodies with the flour. Even their faces were obstructed with the white powder, reducing them to fall to their knees and wipe away the substance on their cheeks, in their eyes, heck, even blocking their ears.

But not even that was the worst fate delivered from the incident. When the cloud was completely gone, everyone who could do so without coughing gasped (Courtney wailed). Heather was kneeling on the ground, she too decked out in a very unattractive orange bean suit. She was breathing heavily, swearing constantly under her breath. She wouldn't raise her eyes, but they were not fixed upon the floor.

Trent was shaking his head in denial, if of hoping that the crick in his back was from slumping over his guitar all day. But no, this crick was from having a black and teal head forcibly pressed against the small of his spine.

There, underneath Heather's cowing figure and Trent's body (which he was lifting off the floor as quick as he could manage) , was Gwen. She was also covered in disregarded food, though unlike everyone else, she wasn't dusting it off her body. In fact, she was laying quite still; the cause of the metal clang was made painfully clear.

* * *

><p>"GWEN!"<p>

Duncan rushed over to his sister, his previous physical restraints disregarded. He threw himself down to the floor, kneeling next to the unconscious Goth. He shot Trent one of the most venomous stares he could muster: the one he reserved especially for police officers. Trent buried his face in his hands, peeking at Gwen through the cracks of his fingers.

"What the-"he used quite a colourful word to emphasise his fiery mood "did you do to my sister?" He roared, cupping her forehead in his palm. Heather shook her head, as if in denial that she had actually knocked out someone. Blaineley had surprisingly managed to hold her tongue, and everyone else stared at the sight, ashamed. Trent shook his head violently.

"I-I, Heather pushed her!" the guitarist whined in defence, unable to steal a glance at Gwen. Duncan redirected his gaze to Heather, whose hands were clapped over her mouth, but this concealment didn't hide the fact that it was open wide in shock.

Courtney rushed to Gwen's figure, shooing Heather and Trent away.

"Get out of the way! I was a CIT!" Heather and Trent were quick to obey, not feeling in the mood to have more negative slurs directed at them that day. Courtney assumed Heather's position and seized Gwen's wrist, searching for a pulse. Duncan looked at her, a saddening desperation in his teal eyes. After a few agonising seconds, Courtney exhaled in relief.

"She's alive…" she whispered. An invisible weight seemed to be released from the air. Duncan's eyes softened once again, his hand never moving from his sister's head. Courtney stood from the trolley and turned to the delinquent.

"Just take her to lie down. She'll come to soon enough." She instructed, regaining her usual business-like tone. Duncan was quick to follow her instructions. He scooped Gwen up into his arms and carried her to a nearby bench. Courtney strode to his aid, providing a pillow to rest her head. After laying her upon the bench, Duncan shone Courtney a grateful smile, to which Courtney returned.

The pair turned around. With Gwen's injury resolved, Blaineley saw no obstacles preventing her from releasing the anger that was bubbling up in her like a human volcano. She raised her finger, gesturing them to join Geoff, Heather and Trent, who all looked shaken and nervous. Duncan and Courtney sighed in unison, as they reluctantly walked towards their manager, silently praying their uniforms were non flammable.

* * *

><p>The five employees were drumming with nerves. Blaineley's gaze was extremely dangerous, and it almost looked like she was slightly trembling. Clenching her fists, she took a deep breath before simply saying:<p>

"Do you think I _like_ working here?" though her voice was soft, it reeked of ire, and everyone could tell she was building up her scolding like a climatic movie. She continued.

"Do you think that I find it fun to supervise a bunch of crest fallen teenagers who complain about their supposedly terrible lives every day?" she paused.

"If you do, you are deluded. There are many other things I would rather be doing than making sure you don't tear this place apart, but the fact that I have to, just makes my blood boil." At this, they were sure the worst was coming soon, and her boiling blood was about to let off steam.

"Do you think that I don't have a good enough reason to be a total-"she used quite an interesting synonym for a canine "to you? Do you think that tagging and bagging food is the hardest thing in the world? Well guess what? It isn't." Pause.

"THE HARDEST THING IN THE WORLD, IS WORKING A JOB WHERE YOU HAVE TO BABYSIT TEENAGERS WHO MAKE YOU WORK OVER TIME BECAUSE OF THEIR INABILITY TO FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS, AND INSIST TO DESTROY THE STORE EVERY WEEK!" Blaineley was now flailing her arms in the air as if she was a rag doll. Her hair entangled further, and seemed to stick together due to the food strewn through it. Everyone else seemed to be unable to lift their gaze from their feet.

"NOW GO CLEAN THIS PLACE UP WITHOUT TEARING IT TO BITS!"

They didn't need to be told twice. With extra haste, all the teens minus an unconscious Gwen rushed to the cleaning supplies cupboard and got to work.

* * *

><p>Cleaning was never a pleasant task; so doing so under your boss' raging stare was nothing to be envied. The five of them were perfectly silent, scrubbing remnants of beans and flour from off nearly every square inch of the floor and walls. Blaineley still seemed to be cooling off from her little episode, so she showed no sign of concern when Gwen awakened.<p>

"About time. Now go clean this place up." She said flatly. Gwen sat up slowly, shaking her head. It was clear that she was completely unaware of the previous hour's events.

"But-"she stuttered, clutching her head.

"GO!"

Not wanting to disgruntle Blaineley further, Gwen resorted to swallowing her questions and grabbed a sponge groggily. She plopped herself onto her knees near Duncan and began to scrub.

* * *

><p>By about six o'clock, the store had regained some portion of its previous "cleanliness," and the teens were dismissed by Blaineley, who still seemed to have trouble repressing her anger. The six of them stripped off their uniforms and started to walk out the door.<p>

Trent, who didn't see himself as the one to blame for the recent events, turned on Geoff as they exited the building. Geoff seemed to be the least affected by the whole incident, and was now contentedly filming everyone with his camcorder.

"Why did you have to trash the place? My back is killing me!" he complained, massaging his lower spine as he spoke. Geoff shrugged, although he couldn't help but feel a little bit ashamed. Duncan couldn't seem to contain his anger.

"Yeah, well maybe your back hurts because you knocked out my sister with it!" he screamed, flinging his arms in Gwen's direction, who didn't exactly know how to react. She simply resorted to glaring at Trent. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly as if trying to construct another sentence that would no doubt dig himself a deeper hole.

"Heather pushed her!" Trent said feebly, his voice shaking. Heather's eyes widened again at the sudden change in direction of the argument, as all eyes now rested on her.

"I-"Heather started, hoping that improvisation wouldn't fail her.

"Don't you dare start!" Duncan shot at her, rendering the Asian silent. Gwen scoffed at Heather's obedience, her mind travelling to the final thing she said to Heather before she got knocked out.

"Oh please, Duncan. Save your breath. This whole thing started because she doesn't like being called _Daddy's Girl_." She said, a lot louder than nescecary, and putting an extra emphasis on Heather's dreaded nickname.

"OH THAT IS IT!" Heather stormed over to Gwen, rapidly picking up speed. Everyone else started screaming out protests; Courtney was bobbing up and down, yelling something.

Heather pulled back her hand. She was just about to slap Gwen across the face, when an extremely strong grip clamped around her wrist. She was just about to protest, until a pair of hardened teal eyes saw her freeze.

Geoff held her writst so tight Heather feared that he would break the bone. Everyone stared in shock. Never before had Geoff's eyes glowed so violently, in fact, this was the first time that anyone of them had actually seen Geoff in any mood other than happy. Duncan's eyes narrowed, but said nothing. Courtney and Trent were trying to make sure they hadn't fallen into an aternate universe, and Gwen stood behind the frozen pair, her mind racing. She was expecting Duncan to lash out at Heather for potentially injuring her further, but Geoff?

She didn't need any more instruction. Heather's arm went limp in Geoff's harsh grip and she sighed. When the party boy decided that Heather was no longer about to hit Gwen he released her wrist feebly. Geoff's protection seemed to have draped an ominous awkward feeling around the co-workers, so without a spectacle to keep them together the group disbanded.

Before everyone could disappear into their cars, Courtney whistled loudly. They all turned to see the brunette looking around secretly.

"Meet me at Devon Joseph's." she said discreetly. Duncan laughed.

"I'm not going anywhere with those-"he started, casting a glance at Heather and Trent.

"Just do it!" Courtney screeched, rendering the delinquent silent. She assumed that this was an agreement so the CIT ducked into her silver car.

* * *

><p>All of the teens were puzzled at Courtney's instruction, but all obeyed her nonetheless. Within ten minutes all five of their cars were parked at the curb of the little pub, the green neon sign still flashing. Courtney led the crowd through the door, and their eyes took a little while to adjust to the dimly lit room once again.<p>

Not stopping to greet DJ, who smiled at their entry, Courtney ushered everyone to a small booth in the corner. Geoff lagged behind and flashed DJ six fingers, to which the bartender nodded. Everyone filed into the chairs, and stared at Courtney questioningly. The brunette sighed and placed her manila folder onto the table. All eyes were on the folder, as if something was about to jump out and explain everything. Instead, Courtney did it.

"Ok. We all agree that today was a disaster?" she asked timidly, hoping this wouldn't spark any arguments. Sadly, it did. Duncan scoffed.

"Yeah, I guess my sister getting knocked out cold can be disastrous." He seethed, staring deeply at Heather and Trent.

"I was trying to stop them fighting-"Trent defended, hell bent on deflecting the blame.

"Yeah well look how well that went!" Gwen exclaimed sarcastically.

"This all wouldn't have happened if you held your tongue, Goth Girl." Heather interjected, she too hoping blame wouldn't weigh her down. Gwen laughed.

"If _I_ held my tongue? Last time I checked-"

"GUYS! CAN YOU PLEASE JUST BE QUIET FOR A FEW MINUTES?" Courtney screeched. The whole bar fell silent, all eyes now focused on the arguing teens. Courtney turned on the customers with a fiery glare.

"What are you looking at?" she spat, sending the customer s back to their business. She resumed her position in the booth and spoke again, her voice slightly lowered.

"Look, I only intended to use this plan for myself, but judging by today, I kind of think that we all need it." She started, drumming her fingers on her folder as she spoke. Geoff tipped his hat out of his face to get a better look. He was still filming with his little camcorder.

"So, what is it, Dudette?" he asked carefully. Courtney responded by snapping the folder open, revealing numerous forms and spreadsheets that no one would ever bother to read.

"I've decided to file a lawsuit against Chris." She said brusquely. Everyone perked up suddenly, and the significance of the moment elevated dramatically.

"So that means-"Gwen started excitedly.

"We'll get out of these jobs, yes." Courtney sliced through Gwen's sentence, as if time was of the essence. She ignored the Goth's glare and continued on. "I devised an argument that absolutely cannot fail. But I'll need your help." Everyone shared nervous glances at the prospect of structuring a court case argument, let alone working together. The CIT caught sight of their qualms and was quick to reassure them.

"Oh don't worry. I'll do all the talking. I just want to interview all of you to back up my argument. I'm going to talk about how all of our dreams were crushed by Chris' stupid contracts, so I'll need your stories to support my argument." She explained quickly, as if she had gone over what she was to say in her head. Heather raised an eyebrow.

"Stories…?" She asked. Courtney nodded at her uncertainty. DJ sauntered over to their little huddle and placed a tray of six bottles of beer in the middle of the table before dismissing himself.

"You know, how you got into uh, acting in your case, what the internship would've meant, and how angry you are that Chris screwed us over." It seemed that Courtney's mouth was running on a motor. The speed that she was talking at was uncannily rapid. The slightest flash of nerves graced Heather's eyes for only a second. Trent chuckled at Courtney's last demand.

"Now that's something I can do." He remarked, grasping a bottle. Courtney smiled.

"Cool. So are you in?" Courtney asked, raising her own liquor. Geoff was first to agree.

"I'm in, Dudette." He proclaimed, lifting his bottle up.

Trent raised his arm into the air, the dark green glass glinting under the light bulb. Duncan, Gwen, and Heather however, were all staring at each other across the table, shooting daggers. Courtney sighed.

"Look, I get that you guys loathe each other. Believe me, if I had the choice I wouldn't be conversing with you either," she started, taking a gulp of liquor before continuing, "but if we just work together for a few weeks, we'll never have to see each other again." She finished, hoping this would convince them to join. Duncan shared a glance with Gwen before turning to Courtney.

"So, if we do this, you can guarantee-"

"Duncan, it's emotional blackmail. It can't fail." Courtney interrupted confidently, her white teeth glowing in the darkness of the pub. Duncan cracked a smile also and raised his bottle next to hers.

"I'm in."

Gwen raised her bottle a little after Duncan's. Heather looked at everyone and sighed, before lifting her bottle also.

"Here's to getting out of these jobs-"

"and never seeing each other ever again." Gwen interrupted Courtney, earning a few nods in enthusiasm. The CIT smirked.

"Yeah, that too."

The collision of six bottles echoed through the small bar, and the plan was in action.

* * *

><p><strong>And that is done.<strong>

**What does everyone think?**

**BFG**


	5. Denying Attractions and Duncney's Debut

**Hello:)**

**And here is Chapter 4:)**

**Read, Review and Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>His steps were much bigger than usual. His heart was playing a brutal jam session in his chest, drumming loudly in his ears with no hope of an ending any time soon. The large envelope was sweaty in his hands that he was scared that the liquid dripping from his fingertips would somehow smudge the ink on his form.<p>

The ruby mail box was getting closer. The grin on his lips seemed to have fastened itself into Trent's face, and with a final intake of breath he slid the ivory rectangle into the slot. He sighed. That was it. In one month he would be in those hallow halls of composition and recording, spending his days (off) correcting his tempo and scattering his room with blank sheet music. Things were finally starting to look up- at least one aspect of his future wasn't torn to shreds thanks to a desperate CEO.

He strolled back home with an extra spring in his step. His mind was now whizzing with all of the possible scenarios he would find himself when he started at TCM. Bands, singles, albums, jam sessions in the cafeteria…

Pushing his door open, he was just about to skip up the stairs to his room when a voice from the living room stopped him.

"Trent? Can you come here for a moment?" It was his mother. The seriousness of her voice caught Trent by surprise. He obeyed her command, entering the living room cautiously.

There he found his sister and brother sitting on the couch. Casey was 12, and was probably growing up too fast for her own good. She too had ebony hair and emerald eyes, although hers was straightened down to her hips and outlined with black makeup. Countless rings were weighing down her nimble fingers and she was covered head to toe in platinum coloured clothes. Next to Casey was Harry. At age 15, he was starting to brush up as a younger version of his older brother. Blessed with his mother's black hair and green eyes also, he was growing exceptionally fast, now reaching up to Trent's eyes. The most noticeable difference between the two brothers is that Harry had much broader shoulders than Trent, which he put to good use in his various sporting commitments.

His mother stood in the middle of the room, and was curvier compared to her skinny daughter, a trait which Casey inherited from her father. The person who was standing next to her mother sent Trent into confusion.

He was everything his family wasn't. His wavy chestnut hair shone brightly in the sunlight, and the emptiness that filled his hazel eyes intimidated Trent. He was extremely thin, and it almost seemed that it was his sleek navy tuxedo that gave him his shoulders.

"Mum?" Trent questioned, staring at the man. He turned his head to their siblings, who both looked solemn.

His mother slipped a glance in the man's direction before turning back to her son.

"Trent, this Brian," she said, placing an arm onto Brian's "we've been seeing each other for a while now."

Trent took a while to register this. His mother was seeing another man. Why? It was so soon, just a year since-

"It's nice to meet you Trent." Brian said smoothly, extending a hand. His teeth shone in an unnatural shade of white. Trent stared at Brian for a few seconds before grasping his hand. The sudden shot of pain almost jerked a yelp up his throat. The force of which Brian gripped his hand was much too hard than necessary. His fingers crushing, he used all his self control not to yell, and withdrew his hand after a few seconds.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Trent said instantly, his eyes not leaving Brian. The smile on his face was sickly sweet- so sweet in fact that it didn't seem genuine.

"I wanted to, I really did. But I just wanted to make sure that it was serious before I got your hopes up." Trent scoffed at his mother's explanation.

"Get my hopes up? You don't have to worry about that, Mum. I'm not hoping for anything that involves you and him-"he replied, pointing a finger at his mother's boyfriend.

"Excuse me, I'm right here!" Brian said, trying to control the level of anger in his voice so he wouldn't raise suspicions.

"Darn. And I here I was thinking that this was a nightmare or something. Then again if it was, I probably would've woken up in a cold sweat by now." Trent spat. His mother stared back at him in horror, knowing full well that her plan had failed miserably.

"Trent-"

"It's too soon!" he said before he could stop it. Without another word Trent stormed out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

><p>The following day at McLean Mart started off as any other. Blaineley still seemed to have retained some of last week's anger, so she briefed the staff in a sourer manner than usual. However the teens couldn't mistake a small glimmer of malice in her eyes that only frightened them further.<p>

"… and when someone asks for change, just give it to them!" Blaineley paused in her instruction to glance at Heather and Duncan, who stared back expressionless. They hadn't been under Blaineley's control for more than 3 weeks and already they seemed to have constructed poker faces.

"Now, on a slightly different note," Blaineley continued, the smallest smile graced her lips- the first one since she acted like an angel around Chris. The thing about this smile was-the teens could tell- it was one hundred percent genuine. They all shared glances, wondering what lied ahead that could cause Blaineley to actually smile.

"I reported your little _accident_ to Chris." At the mention of their bosses' name, they all shared a groan out of instinct. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the reason for all their misfortune appeared, the look on his face stuck somewhere between disappointment and excitement.

"She sure did, Kiddies." Chris added, stopping next to Blaineley. The blonde flashed him a phoney smile before directing an evil smirk at the teens.

"And I must say, I'm not happy," He continued, eyeing the teens one by one. "Do you know how much business I lost because of your little party-"

"Trust me," Gwen interrupted before she could stop herself," it was no party for me." She glared at Trent once again, whose lips pursed.

"-Well it was a whole lot! 4 hours worth of profit can mean the difference between spa night and no spa night, and let's just say, last week my pores were dangerously dry!" Chris continued, as if Gwen hadn't spoken. The teens looked to each other again. Geoff bit back the giggle in his throat as the image of Chris in a towel and cucumbers on his eyes plastered itself into his mind.

"But," Chris countered, raising a finger," 4 hours less business is more than no business at all. So no one's getting fired! Instead, you get a warning. If you ever," Chris dragged out the "ever" for an extremely long time in a pathetic attempt at humour, "put another hair out of line, you'll be stuck here for four years instead of two. Consider this, probation." Chris smiled at the teens before clapping his hands together.

"Now, with boring rants aside, I'm out of here!" Without a second word, Chris strolled out of the automatic doors and slipped into the limo awaiting him.

Blaineley smiled at the teens again before speaking."All-righty, positions…"

"Goth girl is greeter, Punk wanna-be is at the deli, Failed Actress and Daddy's Girl are tagging and Party boy and Harry Potter are at the checkouts." Blaineley read from a clipboard and as the positions were revealed, each teen either stared at the person they were working with or at the area they were working at.

When the staff briefing was over every scuttled over to their respective positions and the doors opened.

* * *

><p>The store had been open for a few hours, and Trent and Geoff were happily serving customers without any flirtatious slurs or catfights, so Blaineley had no excuse to be angry at them. A few customers later Geoff remembered something from the previous week that struck him.<p>

"Hey Trent," he said uneasily. The musician turned his head to face him, the apprehension in Geoff's voice firmly noted. Geoff took a deep breath in. He was roaming in uncharted territory now.

"Last week, when you were greeting, I couldn't help but notice…" The party boy trailed off, the playfulness in his voice completely vanished. Trent raised an eyebrow but soon after comprehension shone on his face.

"Oh," he commented bluntly. "Y-you know Alejandro?" Trent almost felt sick uttering his name, and he almost felt pity for Geoff as he nodded.

"Yeah," Geoff replied, "I-I had this party last year and… well I don't even know how he got in, it was a school thing… But he…kissed…" The memory of the incident flashed through his mind once more, and the remainder of his explanation died in his throat. But it seemed that Trent already knew what lied next. Trent exhaled heavily and dragged a hand through his raven hair.

"Oh, you're_ that_ Geoff?" Trent said in shock. Geoff cocked his head to the side in confusion. Trent sighed, bagging yet another product.

"I- He told me at school…" He mumbled, ashamed. Trent remembered the conversation perfectly, as if the words were fresh in his brain.

_"Hey Trent," he started. The musician could tell from the elusive tone in his voice that his Latino friend brought news. It always seemed to be the same every Monday._

_"How was your weekend?" Trent asked emotionlessly, although part of him quivered uncomfortably of what was to come. Alejandro licked his lips and continued._

_"Well, let's just say that Geoff won't be taking surfing lessons anytime soon…"_

_"Geoff?" Trent questioned. Alejandro smirked deviously._

_"I snuck into the Bayside End of Year Party. Geoff's girlfriend was in his room. I comforted her, like any gentleman would, and the next thing we knew my lips were on hers and Geoff came bursting through the door." Alejandro said casually as if this was a regular occurrence, which it actually was. He always seemed to have a story about his wrecking other people's lives over the weekend that Trent was astounded at the beginning of every week._

_"And why did you decide to break them up?" Trent asked cautiously. Alejandro always seemed to have an ulterior motive. Trent had come to learn that the reason Alejandro is so effective in his endeavours is that there's something in it for him at the other end. The sufferings of others go unacknowledged as long as his needs are met._

_"Geoff Masters holds some of the wildest parties known to anyone in Toronto. He has friends coming in left right and centre, and quite frankly his spotlight is too bright for my liking," Alejandro paused to open his locker. Trent could see where he was going, and began to feel slightly sick. Another thing he has learned from being tied to the Latino is the unnatural longing for attention that fuels a large majority of his errands. What really amazes him is just how well Alejandro is able to hide it._

_"So, I figured that if I shattered his relationship with Bridgette, it would break his will and therefore the parties would stop. And judging by the fact that he didn't show up to school today, I think his will was pretty well broken." Alejandro lifted up his phone, which explained the fact that he knows that a boy who attends a school forty minutes away didn't arrive to class. A text from a girl named Katie read: _

_Like, OMG Alejandro! You like, totally destroyed Geoff! He didn't show up for homeroom, and he ALWAYS shows up, it's like, the one thing you can count on! So, do I get my date now?_

_Trent stared at the phone, and back to Alejandro's conniving smirk with his mouth agape._

_"You did all that for your popularity?" Trent asked incredulously. Alejandro nodded and placed a hand on Trent's shoulder._

_"You shall learn one day, Amigo." Alejandro's voice trailed off as the two started to walk into homeroom. _

"Oh." Geoff didn't know what to make of the new information. If Alejandro told Trent that he had kissed his girlfriend, doesn't that suggest a close friendship of some sort? And if they were friends, was Trent the same as Alejandro? Gwen definitely seemed to think so. But Geoff… no he couldn't imagine Trent being the bad guy. He was just so… likeable. Geoff shook his head and continued bagging the goods in front of him.

A few minutes later Trent mustered up the courage to add:

"Let's just say, Alejandro screwed us both over."

Geoff nodded. He continued to bags his item just wondering where the "screwing over" could've occurred when two minutes ago Trent had implied that he was part of Alejandro's inner circle.

* * *

><p>One can… two cans… three cans…<p>

Each click of the price gun saw yet another overpriced sticker fuse itself to a can of McLean Soup, and her tan fingers were almost blistering under the rough plastic handle. Something had been bothering her since their first day. It was Duncan. Since the moment that ogre made her press up against him and she gazed into his eyes…

She didn't even know, but there was something in his deep teal orbs that burned through Courtney like nothing she had ever seen. Perhaps he saw something in her eyes too, and was so in denial that he had to lift Heather out of the freezer and give her his shirt to take his mind off her… yes, that must have been it.

She then remembered the grateful smile he shone her when she helped lay down Gwen. There was also something there. It may have just been genuine thanks for assisting him in treating his sister, but no, Courtney was convinced something was there. She wasn't making it up!

She couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so curious about the delinquent. Perhaps the fact that she was brought up so immaculately saw her shiver with excitement at the sight of anything even remotely rebellious, and Duncan fit that bill about ten fold.

But, Heather… Courtney couldn't believe that was comparing herself with the girl she was tagging products next to. But she couldn't help it; life was just one big competition, and when Courtney saw Heather in Duncan's arms she shot right up her list of threatening opponents.

She had to act fast. If she wanted Duncan now was the time to take action, before Duncan falls further into denial and tries anything with Heather…

Courtney craned her head around to where Heather was working. She too seemed absorbed in her own thoughts, so she jolted slightly when Courtney called her.

"Hey Heather…" Courtney said mysteriously, a sudden warm feeling cascading over her stomach like hot, pleasant soup. Heather turned around, her price gun dangling from her long, sleek fingers.

"What?" the tone of her voice wasn't bitter, yet not hospitable either and it seemed to make Courtney's task that little more intimidating. The CIT inhaled slowly before pushing out the words that had been dying to leave her lips the moment Heather emerged from the freezer.

"Do you… have a thing for Duncan?" Courtney asked mildly. She almost regretted the words before she said it, thanks to the way Heather screwed up her face. She hoped that her question wouldn't lead to another argument like the one that saw half the store's defacement last week. Luckily for her, and probably every other employee, Heather's eyes widened for a second before she answered:

"Uh, no. That's stupid. As if. There's no chance that I could possibly like Duncan." Heather said hastily. Her eyes were darting slightly from side to side, but Courtney didn't seem to notice. As soon as Heather denied any attraction to Duncan, Courtney turned around to hide the smirk playing at her lips.

"Perfect." She muttered, so only she and Heather could hear.

* * *

><p>Gwen's day proceeded rather monotonously. Blaineley didn't bother decking Gwen out in a Chris McLean suit, as the obvious gender barrier wouldn't have gotten a convinced response, and therefore no beaten up greeter. She also had no musical talent whatsoever (as she so bluntly proclaimed at the start of the day to Blaineley), so she couldn't serenade entering customers with a guitar either. So she spent her working day welcoming people to the store with the ever endearing: "Welcome to McLean Mart. We hope you enjoy our terrible unqualified service and ridiculously jacked up prices so that our boss can get his weekly pedicure."<p>

After a few dreary hours of subconsciously discouraging customers, Gwen decided that she needed a walk. She glanced around the store for Blaineley, but she seemed to have disappeared just like Gwen was about to. Sighing happily, she simply picked up her ebony messenger bag from the floor and walked away from her post. She ducked into a "Staff Only" door without anyone noticing with a smile. The doors that scattered the walls of McLean Mart all led to one thing: the product shelving.

It was massive. Shelf after shelf lined the room, all of which were housing an endless supply of poorly manufactures food products. The sound proof walls of the room saw the hustling of the customers on the other side unheard, and Gwen smile contentedly. It was perfect.

Gwen pressed her back up against the end of one of the shelves and sighed. Suddenly, her ears perked up. Someone else was in there with her. Although the sound was faint, she couldn't mistake it. Someone was crying.

Curious, Gwen picked herself up and tiptoed in the direction of the sound. The room was a large labyrinth of shelves that she was lost within seconds, guided only by the mysterious crying. It wasn't full fledges wailing, just small sniffles and heavy sighs that normally came when one was trying to suppress their sadness. It was getting closer.

Gwen rounded the corner, and quickly darted back behind the shelf. If she didn't see it, she wouldn't have believed it. But there, seated on an overturned bucket and softly sobbing… was Blaineley.

Gwen was quite sure how to react. She hated Blaineley. Up until then she merely viewed her boss as some one-dimensional witch who simply took pleasure in torturing teens. But now… she didn't even know where this put her in regard to the blonde. She felt a small pang of sympathy for her, but she couldn't comfort her because either she would tell her off for slacking on the job, or simply swallow her tears and deny everything- chances are she would do both.

So Gwen just watched her from behind the shelf. She continued to cry, and Gwen had an irritating feeling of helplessness rise up in her throat. It was like she was separated from the world, and all she could do was sit and watch other people fall apart.

After a few minutes of feeling terribly useless, Gwen sighed very softly before retreating back to her position, a newfound feeling of understanding slightly amending her attitude towards her boss.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day continued likewise. Duncan spent his entire day serving customers at the deli to the best of his ability, even though he ended up with a few complaints from an elderly man who ordered skinless sausages. Duncan, rather lazily, tossed up a few skinned sausages and told the man frankly to "get a knife and skin them himself". He also managed to ruffle a few feathers by insisting that he only cut pieces of meat in half, when his customers clearly told him to cut them into eight.<p>

The sun set upon McLean Mart and Blaineley called the staff over for a quick scolding, as always. Although she didn't quite reach the anger levels of the previous week, she still managed to retain the fiery look in her eyes when she grilled Duncan about his lack of manners.

"I got about five complaints about you and your crappy service!" she exclaimed, shoving a stubby finger at Duncan's face. He shrugged.

"It's not my fault those customers are too lazy." Duncan said simply. He could see the holes in his argument, but Duncan seemed to have taken a liking to winding his supervisor up. Blaineley chuckled sinisterly.

"_They're_ lazy? You gave a woman 500g less than what she ordered, and when she complained you told her to get it herself!" Blaineley threw her arms into the air, and Duncan merely grinned.

"Exactly. See, if that woman wasn't lazy she would've climbed over the counter and gotten it herself." Blaineley stopped raging. She stared at Duncan incredulously. How is it that this one boy could be so infuriating? She sighed in defeat.

"Just go. All of you."

They didn't need to be told twice. Before Blaineley could finish her sentence everyone was streaking off their aprons and strolling out the door without a second glance- except for Gwen. She turned her head slightly and saw Blaineley bring her hand to her forehead resignedly before exiting the store with everyone else.

* * *

><p>As each person headed to their cars, Courtney didn't walk to her own silver vehicle, but to Duncan. Since the six of them were the only ones left in the car park, everyone peeked at their encounter out of the corners of their eyes.<p>

"Hey Duncan," Courtney called after the delinquent as he started to open his car door. Duncan stopped dead at the sight of Courtney striding up to him, and leant on his car casually.

"Princess," Duncan greeted sleekly, "what brings you to my car?" Duncan gestured to his rusting black Camry, which he of course shared with Gwen. She was seated in the passenger seat, and had front row seats to Duncan and Courtney. The CIT cleared her throat.

"Are you free tonight?" she said suddenly. Duncan was taken aback by her response. He was expecting-even looking forward to- her to snap at him for calling her Princess, or at the very least a furtive look that wreaked of irritation, but instead a question as forward as that? Duncan felt a little deflated.

"Yeah…" Duncan trailed off raising an eyebrow. He seemed to lean a bit further back into his car, and his mind was suddenly racing with reasons Courtney would want to see him tonight. Well, he was strikingly irresistible after all. The only thing that surprised him was just how easily she was falling into his arms. Duncan practically fed off the thrill of the chase, and the delinquent was certain that chasing Courtney's fiery attitude would've been the ride of his life.

"Well, I want to interview you tonight. You know, for the court case." Courtney said, her usual official tone never failing to make her words sound important. Duncan's spirits deflated slightly. Just an interview… but then they slowly started to build themselves up. It'll be the just two of them, and Duncan will have plenty of time to wind her up; he loved seeing her angry.

"Sounds good, Princess," Duncan replied cockily, hoping her hated nickname would trigger some argument. He waited for her eyes to light up like the magnificent fire that burned through her when he cornered her at the checkouts. He waited for her harsh words to both cut through him like a knife yet still beckon him for more. He would even be fine with a small "humph" in frustration just to know that he indeed got her angry. But no, none of that came. Duncan was confused to say the least.

"Cool," Courtney retrieved a pad from her pocket and scribbled down something. Tearing off the paper briskly, she handed the note to Duncan. "Here's my address. Come at eight, we'll be done with dinner by then." She flashed Duncan one last smile before walking back to her car sophisticatedly. The click of her high heels against the pavement seemed to ring in his ears. Perfect. He was at her house. She was bound to get angry there. He folded up the piece of paper and slid it into his pocket before ducking into his car next to Gwen.

With such a small parking space, naturally everyone had witnessed what had exchanged between Duncan and Courtney, and was smart enough to decipher the hidden meaning that wasn't very well hidden. Everyone had their different reactions as well.

Gwen, who was closest merely shook her head and dragged her seatbelt on. She had seen too many girls like that in high school who had fallen for Duncan somehow- just exactly how always seemed to amaze her- and Gwen was pretty much convinced that Courtney was just another.

Trent shook his head also and then proceeded to duck into his car; but anyone who stared at him for a second longer may have caught a hint of sadness or perhaps apprehension dart through his emerald eyes.

Geoff seemed the least fazed. Of course he had captured the entire scene on his camcorder, and didn't really see it as very important. They could do whatever they wanted, he figured. He shut off his camcorder and revved up his engine.

Heather was the last one to leave. She stared at Duncan and Courtney with slightly widened eyes. She had a feeling that her brief conversation with Courtney that day would lead to something, but so soon? She didn't know why, but Heather felt her stomach drop unpleasantly when she denied any form of attraction to Duncan.

She shook off the very same feeling of her internal organs diving uncontrollably and shut her car door a little too hard.

* * *

><p>The radio was blasting a heavy guitar riff through its speakers. Duncan was subconsciously nodding to the beat, while his mind wandered over Courtney brisk request, and what was to come of it tonight. Duncan felt confident about the coming night. All he had to do was wind her up be being his charming self, and her short temper could take care of the rest. Duncan smiled. Ever since the checkout on the first day he knew he wanted to see a little bit more of that fire.<p>

Gwen was also thinking about Courtney. She knew deep down that it wouldn't last, but there was something about her that told Gwen she was not like other girls- and that wasn't a compliment.

"Duncan," Gwen started. Her brother turned his head slightly, while keeping his eyes on the road, "about tonight. Look, keep your wits about you. Courtney doesn't look like the kind of girl who'll let go easily."

Duncan's face contorted into confusion at Gwen's warning. Duncan was assured that he would have no problem ending anything that transpired between the two of them, thanks to his endless experience- of being on either end of the break up scene. Besides, Duncan was never really one for emotion.

"Please, don't you know that I'm always on alert?" Duncan replied smoothly, his short-sighted confident beaming through his words. Gwen heaved out a small "humph" and turned to her window, hoping for Duncan's sake that Courtney didn't fulfil Gwen's prediction.

* * *

><p>After dropping Gwen off and slipping into something more comfortable (a black t-shirt, ripped jeans and his signature red converses) Duncan drove over to Courtney's house alone. His mind seemed to go over his entire possible pick up lines and ways to infuriate Courtney, and by the time he reached the CIT's massive house he was prepared for pretty much any situation he could think of.<p>

Stepping out from his car, Duncan felt an uncomfortable need to have stepped out a limo to fit in; he started to feel exceptionally underdressed in his simple attire, and he suddenly felt the need to hide his brightly coloured hair from its neutral surroundings- and that was just the outside.

Courtney's house was magnificent. A chocolate brown door stood proudly in the midst of two stories of calming beige bricks, and the tinted windows gave the house a feeling of exclusivity. The door was surrounded by numerous lush plants all of which housed in an intricate mosaic pot plant.

Duncan strutted up to the door lazily before ringing the doorbell. He was hoping that a parent would answer so he would be able to astound some pompous adult about the calibre of people their daughter would invite over. Duncan stopped himself mid thought for making assumptions. It was that kind of thinking that Duncan hated. He leaned up against one of the pillars that stood next to the door and resorted to fingering his pocket knife in his jeans pocket.

After a few seconds the sound of rushing footsteps could be heard from inside, and suddenly the door swung open. Courtney stood in the middle of the doorway with the same sweet smile on her face. She was dressed in a lilac tank top and long silk pyjama pants in a shade of cream that could easily blend in with the bricks.

"Duncan!" Courtney greeted, "come in." She stepped aside so Duncan could walk in, but their shoulders still managed to brush up against each other. The house was incredible. A soothing shade of chestnut carpet lined the floors, and the walls were a plain shade of bone. The house's ceiling was insanely high, and the entrance saw Duncan gaping at two flights of stairs arching sideways to make room for a hallway.

* * *

><p>"Nice place, Princess." Duncan commented smoothly, running a hand through his hair. This time, Duncan got just what he wanted. Courtney turned around for a fraction of a second.<p>

"Don't call me that," she snapped. Her eyes were burning with annoyance for that brief moment, but that was all Duncan needed. Immediately after her scolding her eyes softened and she flashed him yet another smile. "And thank you." She added.

Courtney led Duncan into a small lounge room (to Duncan's amazement, there was more than one). The walls and carpet of this room were slightly darker. A maroon couch was pressed up against the wall, and two matching recliners stood at each side. A small wooden table stood in the middle of the room, and finally a plasma television was stuck to the opposite wall. Duncan couldn't help but notice that a note book was laying on the table, as well as two glasses of wine one either side.

Duncan had never felt more forced into anything in his entire life- and he quite enjoyed it.

"Alright," Courtney said, more to herself than to her guest. She plopped herself onto the couch rather gracefully, and gestured Duncan to do the same. He followed suit, dropping himself down onto the leather a little rougher than Courtney, but she didn't seem to notice. Courtney grabbed her note pad and placed it on her lap, before seizing her glass of wine and took the smallest sip.

"So, Duncan," she started, taking care to smile sweetly. "What made you get into art?" her voice was laced with interest; it gave Duncan the most distinct cloying feeling. Brushing this to the side Duncan opened his mouth and started to talk, his eyes on his glass of wine. Courtney sat poised at her book, ready to take notes furiously.

* * *

><p>"I used to get in lots of trouble. I'd rob milk bars, steal cars, but most of all, I'd tag walls."<p>

_The moonlight was extremely calming for Duncan. The cover of darkness was a perfect mask for the satisfying feeling he was about to experience. Shaking the can lightly, the sound of the "click clack" of the can was music to his ears. Pressing his finger down upon the small button of release, the light hiss filled him with the most dominant sensation of contentment. His hand moved like velvet across the brick wall, almost like a second nature._

_With his tagging done, he stepped back, examined his work then disappeared once again into the incriminating night._

* * *

><p>"I probably would've gone to Juvie ten times more if it weren't for Gwen. I told her everything, and she covered for me."<p>

_Gwen's peaceful sleep was shattered. A light tap on her window jolted her upright, and saw her face to face with her brother perched on a tree staring straight at her. It took all her self control to restrain the instinctive scream threatening to burst from her throat, as she tip toed out of bed and un- hinged the window._

_Duncan swung himself in with ease, dusting himself off with a smug grin. Gwen returned to her bed, pulling the covers over._

_"Tag another wall?" she asked casually as Duncan started to remove his shirt. The two had shared a room for as long as they could remember. It wasn't really an issue between Duncan and Gwen. They would just get changed in front of each other without shielding their eyes. It just showed how close they were. _

_"You know it. Draw another depressing sketch?" Duncan replied, pulling on a dirty T-shirt. Gwen chuckled before resting her head on her pillow and Duncan started to undo his belt._

_"You know me too well, Juvie." She sighed, her eyes closing. Duncan quickly jumped into a pair of pants and snuggled into his own bed._

_"Wait! Before you go to bed, remember the cover story!" Duncan whisper yelled, genuine worry tinging his voice. Gwen rolled over to face her brother, whose bed stood against the opposite wall,_

_"Don't get your Mohawk in a knot. "I swear on my life that Duncan was here all night." Happy?" She replied casually before rolling over to face the wall. Duncan rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling._

_"Night, Pasty."_

* * *

><p>"But then, that one day when Gwen slept over at her friend's- Pixie Corpse I think her name was- I tagged again, and no one was there to cover for me."<p>

_Gwen walked through the door, her ebony bag slung over her right arm. The uncanny silence of the house unnerved her, and the sight in the lounge room was even more disturbing. Duncan was held at the scruff of his neck by their father and their mother was pacing the room._

_"What happened?" she asked, her eyes darting from Duncan, to her parents. Duncan wore a pained expression, which made a pang of guilt stab at her chest._

_"Duncan was caught tagging a wall. He's going to Juvie, again." Her father said sternly, his grip on Duncan tightening. Duncan's face twisted._

_"Wait! Just like that? Don't they have trails first?" Gwen asked hurriedly, having observed the process multiple times before. Her father laughed rudely._

_"Oh please, there isn't anything to discuss. Now go to your room, Gwendolyn. Your mother and I have to talk to your brother." Gwen extended her arms, preparing herself for a full fledged argument right then and there._

_"But-"_

_"NOW!"_

_And without another word, Gwen shot Duncan an apologetic look before retreating to her room._

* * *

><p>Courtney was scribbling frantically. Duncan's gaze hadn't shifted. It was obvious that he hasn't spoken of this in quite a while.<p>

"Then, the day before I was going to Juvie, Ma and Pa were showing me and Gwen-"

"Gwen and I," Courtney corrected, her eyes lighting up. Duncan grunted.

"Gwen and I," he emphasised," some evidence from the scene. But it was basically Pa's way of proving to the whole world he was right."

_The kitchen bench was strewn with photos, witness' testimonies, even Duncan's signature lime green spray can. Duncan sat there, his eyes alight in fury. Gwen was seated next to him, and unseen to their parents, Gwen's hand was resting on Duncan's knee for support._

_"As you can see, there is conclusive evidence that Duncan is responsible for-"_

_"Hey what's that?" Gwen interrupted her eye catching sight of…_

_"It's Duncan's tag. Here look at it. It's further evidence." Her father replied, pulling the photo out from the pile and handing it to Gwen. Her eyes widened slightly. It was truly magnificent._

_A colourful array of purples, greens, blues all intricately woven together, which made it, look messy, but perfectly organised at the same time. All of which put together to form the most artistically perfect skull Gwen had ever seen. Gwen' eyes rose from the piece of art and met Duncan's._

_The message was received immediately._

_After a few more minutes of their father's rant on law abiding and evidence conclusions, both their parents pagers beeped simultaneously. They retrieved the little machine before they seemed to sigh in unison too._

_"We have to go on patrol. Don't stay up too late." Their mother said. Gwen couldn't help but notice that her father's eyes were resting upon Duncan the entire time._

_Everyone exchanged their goodbyes (although Duncan and his father did so grudgingly) and their parents were gone within a minute._

_Gwen turned to Duncan._

_"Duncan, I know this is gonna sound really weird, but this," she started, lifting Duncan's tag off her lap, "it's actually really good…"_

_Duncan said nothing. He had the growing suspicion of where the conversation was heading, and a sick feeling of anger and betrayal was starting to sink into his stomach, embedding itself deep into an irretrievable canyon of his gut. Of all people…_

_"Dude, I'm not joking. You probably have what it takes to be an artist-"_

_Duncan had heard enough. He sprang from his chair in rage, causing Gwen to flinch and yelp at the sudden movement. How dare she-_

_"How could you? Of all people I always thought that you would never try to change me!" Duncan bellowed, throwing his arms into the air. Gwen sunk deeper into her stool. She thought that her attempt to talk to him would end up this way, but her words were actually genuine. It wasn't some sick ploy to steer him in the "right direction."_

_Gwen turned her neck slightly, her face desperate, "I'm not trying to change you Duncan." She said, rising to her feet." Your artwork-"Gwen said hurriedly._

_"Artwork? ARTWORK?" Duncan laughed maniacally "Gwen I know what you're trying to do! I've had Ma and Pa doing the same thing for 16 years! And you know what? Whenever I committed a crime or tagged a wall, I always thought that there was at least one person who is completely happy with whom I am, no matter how many times I've been behind bars." _

_Gwen was on the verge of tears now. Never before had the two siblings fought like this. Playful arguments over who gets TV privileges yes, but not something as full scale and real as this. She reached out to grasp Duncan's hand._

_"Please Duncan just listen to me-"Gwen said, her voice shaking._

_"No!" Duncan snapped, tearing his hand away from his sister's; that was the action that tipped Gwen over the edge, and warm tears found their way down her porcelain cheeks. "I can't believe you." Duncan seethed through gritted teeth._

_He stormed out the door without taking a second glance to Gwen._

* * *

><p>"I was broken. I was going to Juvie again, and the only person who I thought would never get me straight did. So, out of instinct, I did the one thing I could think of. I grabbed a spray can and headed to the bedroom."<p>

_Fury was pulsating through Duncan like an unhealthy disease. His hand was gripped so tightly around the spray can he thought he would put a dent into it. Feeling too enraged to use the doorknob, Duncan kicked down the door with all the strength he could muster, and when that was added to pure adrenaline, he had enough horse power to put a hole in the wall._

_The crash of the door tearing away from its hinges reverberated off Gwen's ears from downstairs, and after a fearful "Duncan!" saw no response, Gwen bolted up the stairs behind him._

_Although he would never admit it, salty tears were starting to well up in Duncan's eyes, but he managed to choke them down with an extremely painful scream. _

_"Duncan!"_

_His hand was moving rapidly across Gwen's wall that is almost looked like a blur. He was darting violently from left to right, tagging every single drawing that she bothered to plaster onto the wall. Every so often he would grunt in frustration. Gwen arrived at the doorframe, her eyes widened in shock._

_Duncan's finger was pressed so aggressively on the spray button, the can's contents ran out within about a minute. When he realised that his ink supply was thinning, he shook the can so brutally that if his arm was one centimetre to the left, he could've easily punched himself very hard in the stomach._

_"Come on…" Duncan whispered, shaking the can again and trying to spray some more but to no success._

_"Come on!" Duncan rattled the can with all his might and it was then that movement started to return to Gwen's body. She sprinted up to Duncan and seized his arm._

_"Duncan, please stop." She pleaded; holding on to his arm like it was life itself. He threw her off and once again tried to spray the wall with the empty can. Realising that it was a lost cause, Duncan threw the can to the side harshly and started to pace. Gwen took his lack of weapon as a time to restrain him._

_She hinged her fingers onto his left arm, resting her chin of his shoulder. "Duncan…calm down…look…can we-"_

_Duncan seemed to be deaf to Gwen's desperate begging, as he pried her thin arms away from him, he proceeded to tear down all of the sketches that Gwen had on the wall for good measure. Wailing with every picture that touched the floor, he was moving in great arm motions, tearing down pictures at a time. Gwen again grabbed onto Duncan, yelling his name repeatedly._

_Using his free arm Duncan continued to tear off every piece of paper attached to the wall in front of him. Gwen responded to this by hoisting his second arm down, rendering his ability of tearing down posters to near impossible. Breathing heavily, Duncan wasn't ready to give up._

_"Let me go, Gwen!" he barked, trying to squirm out of his sister's grasp; she was extremely strong._

_"No, please Duncan just look at me-"_

_"Let me go!" he repeated, turning his head away from Gwen's. Both of them still breathing heavily, Gwen loosened her grip on her brother's arms, and instead applied her force to hold Duncan's cheeks firmly in her palms. Eye contact was inevitable._

_"Duncan." Gwen whispered, liquid diamonds falling from the corner of her onyx orbs. That, for Duncan was breaking point. _

_Heaving out a heart wrenching moan Duncan's head collapsed onto Gwen's shoulder._

* * *

><p>"After that, we talked for a bit. I helped her clean up the mess I made and she showed me one of the sketches I tagged. Combined with her sketch it actually looked halfway decent. I saw where she was coming from, and went to Juvie happy. When I came out, we started collaborating, and we've been working together ever since."<p>

Duncan sighed heavily and sipped from his glass of wine. Courtney was still writing, her hand a mocha blur. When she finally finished she put her notepad down and downed some wine also. She smiled.

"Wow, what a great story…" she whispered, apparently awe- inspired. Duncan stared into her eyes and had finally stopped to realise that their faces were within inches of each other, and Courtney's hand was resting on his knee.

"Well, I've always been a man of-"

Before Duncan could mutter just a man of he was, Courtney leaned in a centimetre forwards, and his lips were on hers.

Needless to say, the interview had ended- and they didn't even finish their wine.

* * *

><p><strong>And Chapter 4 comes to a close:)<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed it. I decided to add a bit of a story to Blaineley, as I didn't really want one dimensional characters, so Blaineley's shennanigans are added to the drama!**

**Review!**


	6. Fighting Fire With Fire

**Greetings!**

**I know it's been a while. I've been spending most of my time reading and listening to lots of music. So I enjoyed my Christmas and New Years, and I have returned fresh as a daisy and newly inspired. So I went on my computer and wrote chapter 5! Hurah!**

**Read, Review and Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>As the sun rose over Toronto, it felt like the sky was falling unmercifully upon the blonde. There she was, hunched over a slippery toilet seat as her breakfast slid back up her oesophagus and into the murky toilet water. Her insides felt like they would find their way out of her mouth too, and the last thing she wanted to do was make sure six teenagers wouldn't tear a dingy department store apart; but thus was life.<p>

Her hair was hanging messily from her skull in dirty blonde locks, some doused in vomit, others draped around the toilet seat. She picked herself up, the urge to regurgitate more food flowing over her unpleasantly. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as her eye caught sight of herself in the mirror: she was a mess. Her eyes were heavily lidded from fatigue, and her vomit-coated hair didn't help either.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her head into the sink and started to wash away the remnants of her meal under the tap. The cool water felt soothing against her burning cheeks and even better in her tainted scalp. Her fingers roamed her hair, willingly entangling themselves in the seemingly endless blonde tendrils. Soon enough, her hair was vomit free, and she lifted her head up and stared at the rest of her face.

She grimaced. Plunging her hand into a clutter of makeup, she retrieved some foundation and started applying it. She masked her qualms, her worries, her fears, and most of all, her venerability behind the poorly manufactured substance. But it was almost calming knowing that she could take refuge by covering herself in a fake exterior so she could hide from everything.

Her nimble fingers dropped her makeup back in its bag when her work was over. She now looked presentable. She looked normal. Perfect. Running a hand through her wet hair, she figured she could get away with telling people she had a shower as Blaineley O'Hallaren exited the McLean-Mart bathroom to greet her stubborn employees.

* * *

><p>Gwen, Trent, Heather and Geoff were all waiting attentively. It was now 7:15, and they were all wondering what would ever influence Courtney to be even a second late; but they all had a mutual feeling that it was scattered in piercings and sported a Mohawk. The fact that Gwen turned up to work alone was evidence in itself.<p>

The doors slid open, and in they walked. Trent gasped to himself as Duncan strolled in, with Courtney growing on his arm. Gwen shook her head. Heather suddenly found the ground a lot more interesting, her eyes never leaving her feet. Geoff of course caught the whole spectacle on his camcorder, and wolf whistled.

"Now, now…" he began, scooting over to the new couple, "just when did this happen?" his voice was sly as was the grin on his face. Duncan chuckled, trying to detach himself from his girlfriend.

"Last night." Duncan said simply, choosing not to elaborate. Courtney's smile was extremely sweet, and just saw Gwen's smile grow that little bit more. She couldn't quite decide what made her so amused: the fact that Duncan had wasted absolutely no time in getting himself hooked up, or that Courtney was so clearly under the delusion that Duncan was in it for the long run.

"Righteous," Geoff commented. He closed his camcorder hastily at the arrival of Blaineley. They couldn't help but notice that she looked a little gaunter than usual, plus her hair was dripping wet. They all figured that she just had a shower or something.

"Morning," she said sternly, flipping them a glance of acknowledgement before directing her gaze to her clipboard.

"Ok, Daddy's girl and Harry Potter are at the checkouts, Party boy and Goth girl are tagging, Failed actress is greeter, and-"

"Wait a minute!" Duncan interrupted, his mind clicking, "I was at the deli yesterday!" He freed himself of Courtney's grasp, causing her to exclaim a shocked "Dunky!" (Gwen resisted the urge to guffaw into her fist).

"Well, you did such a bad job last time, so I figured that you'd be stuck there until you do it properly!" Blaineley spat back, her drenched hair flailing water onto the floor and some of the teens.

Duncan mumbled a few profanities to himself and Courtney latched herself onto his arm again. She started stroking his shoulder in some attempt to console him, and Duncan smirked deviously to Gwen. She mirrored his expression, bemused.

"Get moving!" Blaineley barked. Everyone jolted out of their awkward silence as they walked over to their assigned positions. Blaineley pulled out a plastic pool chair and threw herself in. Massaging her temples, she could almost feel her stomach threatening to send up another delivery. Almost.

* * *

><p>Duncan stood idle at the deli, awaiting customers. He figured that he's get it done properly this time; raw meat wasn't exactly his idea of a perfect job.<p>

While serving customers with a phoney smile, he couldn't help but think about his newly formed relationship with Courtney.

There was no denying that her smooth mocha skin, coupled with her endless sea of chestnut hair and deep threatening eyes were magnificent to look at. Duncan also couldn't seem to rid himself of his growing addiction to her anger; seeing her mad made the delinquent crazier than any drug could. But that was all she was to him- a drug. It was the same with every girl. He spends one fantastic moment inhaling the sweet scent of rebellion and letting his brain float high above the stratosphere, and he feels beyond the point of happiness, but then, he throws the burnt out butt away, searching for a new adventure.

He was well aware that one of these days Courtney's spontaneous fire will reach its limit, and she will be nothing but emphysema in the lungs of Duncan's love life. But hey, he was 18; commitment was never his strong point.

She was definitely more intriguing than any of the other girls he had brought home or spent the night with- and there was no way he could limit himself to a single evening of her alluring rage. So Duncan sighed contentedly and looked to his future relationship with Courtney as something he'll never forget.

* * *

><p>If legs were meant to be stood on for hours on end, Heather was sure that humans would've been born with an incredible amount of stamina. But as it goes, she had no such luck. She figured she could put some of her acting skills to good use (if one considers it such), so she was greeting her customers with a bright happy smile.<p>

Boredom was growing dangerously fast inside her, and everyone who passed through the doors were beginning to look identical. That was until someone strolled through the doors who took her by surprise. He seemed to stand out among the crowd of nobodies like a jaguar in Antarctica with his sleek leather boots and shirt that almost left nothing to the imagination. She also recognised him as the guy who seemed to be hassling Trent when he was greeting. She received confirmation of this when she requested his whereabouts.

"He's at the checkouts," she replied, pointing in the direction. She couldn't help but notice that his voice was extremely calming. The sweet timbre rolled off his tongue effortlessly, and Heather started to find trouble standing up- however she blamed this on her fatigue from a lack of a chair.

She was expecting him to walk over to him and her day to resume its mundane routine, however, he stayed put. He eyed her curiously, and Heather felt her cheeks grow warm as his inviting green eyes melted into her. She slapped herself inwardly; there was no time for physical attractions now.

"Thank you, Chica," he said finally. It took a few seconds to realise that he thanked her for showing her Trent. He went on. "But I think my juvenile trifling with a heartbroken musician can wait. May I say that you look most beautiful, even if your surroundings don't reflect such. Tell me, how did such a poised woman of your calibre find herself greeting nobodies at a department store?"

Heather caught out his shameless flattery in a heartbeat, and while her insides her fuming, her face seemed to betray her. The shade of her cheeks were slowly resembling a tomato, so she compensated by adding extra venom to her reply.

"That's none of your business!" She spat, and after a seconds deliberation added: "and don't think I have no idea that you're trying to get into my pants!" He chuckled amusedly to himself and took a step closer to her.

"Get into your pants? You have grossly underestimated by ability to court such a lady as yourself. How about I take you to dinner?" Heather was almost shocked at how smoothly he inserted a date proposal into his speech. She was just about to decline, when the moment at hand collided with her distraught emotions in a terrible and twisted train wreck. She was about to fight fire with fire.

"You know what?" she started, her lips curving into a wretched grin. "We're all meeting at Devon Joseph's tonight, you should come along." Heather knew that she was parading into dark territory now, but the thrill of it pushed her further. His white teeth shone through the store, as his mouth mirrored Heather's expression.

"Give me a time, and I will be there, Chica."

Heather placed a finger on her chin before she replied. "We finish at 6, so probably about 6:15."

He nodded and turned to leave. Suddenly Heather realised that they didn't even observe a key aspect in the introduction process.

"Wait!" she called, raising a hand, "what's your name?" He turned around on his heel, his hair whipping around perfectly in the process. He shot Heather another look that resembled that of when he stared at her before. "Alejandro." He slid huskily.

"I'm Heather." She countered. "Now get lost."

Alejandro flashed her one final grin before slipping through the automated doors like a secret agent. Heather's mood suddenly escalated as her thoughts accelerated to the events that would unfold at Devon Joseph's.

* * *

><p>The sterile feel of plastic against skin was starting to wear down Trent's hands with every product, and his brain was about to wear itself out with his endless speculation. He observed Heather and Alejandro's encounter from his post, and was no worried sick of what was conceived from it. He had a feeling that Heather had a little shred of bitterness within her, and together with Alejandro's irresistible encouragement, Trent was convinced that they had devised some sort of plan for something.<p>

As yet another customer passed through the checkouts and into the world he decided to direct his thoughts somewhere else. Unfortunately, given the limited amount of interesting things at a department store, he found himself thinking about Courtney when his eyes landed on her next to him. She was bagging items independently, flashing a sweet smile to every customer as they exited the store.

Trent could hardly believe that she would even consider laying eyes on Duncan. It was really mind boggling to the musician to comprehend. Was it simply the conventional "girls like bad boys" cliché, or did it go deeper than that? Trent found himself disregarding the second option- Duncan was as deep as a kiddie pool as far as he was concerned.

While Trent was immersing himself in his investigation of Courtney's motives for pursuing a relationship with Duncan, he didn't realise that he had left his eyes fixed on the brunette. It didn't take long for Courtney to notice that he was staring at her, and responded by inquiring with his name over and over.

It took about three repetitions of "Trent," but the musician managed to snap out of his daze eventually. Courtney grinned a little bit at his brief lapse in concentration as she put a bag of McLean Chips into a plastic bag.

"You alright?" she asked pleasantly. The sing-song melody of her voice caught Trent off guard, and before his brain could connect to his mouth to shut himself up, his lips had already gained a mind of its own and the words tumbled through involuntarily.

"Why Duncan?" he blurted out. Trent winced, as if the realisation of his utter caused him physical pain. Regret was seeping through him and he prayed that Courtney's reaction wouldn't be too disastrous. Instead, Courtney's face softened in confusion as yet another customer left.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently. Trent screwed up his face, and hoped that he would be able to compose his reply adequately. He inhaled deeply and bagged two bottled of milk before answering.

"I mean, you're so different, and... I don't know it just seems confusing..." Trent stopped there, for he didn't trust himself to go on. Courtney seemed to know where he was coming from, and answered accordingly.

"I know; it's crazy. At first I thought he was a disgusting Neanderthal, but as I got to know him, I don't know how to explain it, but... ok, look. My parents have all these barriers up for me, and when I'm with Duncan, it feels like I'm running at those barriers with a jackhammer. I just... Duncan makes me feel alive." Courtney seemed like she was talking more to herself than to Trent, but he couldn't deny the typical "giddy school girl" tone of her voice that signalled sincerity. He sighed in defeat. At least he didn't get slapped across the face.

"Okay." He ended.

A few customers later Trent's mind suddenly overpowered his lips again, and he found himself saying:

"Just... be careful." He began, "he's been known to play with hearts." Courtney said nothing, and Trent engaged in no further conversation.

Courtney furrowed her brows at Trent's words, and tried her best not to take them seriously.

* * *

><p>$5.95...$5.95...$5.95... Geoff couldn't seem to see anything else. The click of the price gun was enough to make his ears bleed, and Gwen's stony exterior wasn't helping to lighten the mood either. He could almost feel himself deflating.<p>

Since the day started, he had tried to strike up a conversation with the Goth, but to no avail. Her constant state of gloom was very intriguing for Geoff, and he seemed to want to break it even more than he wanted to videotape himself doing so- and that was saying a lot. If videotaping every living moment taught him anything, it was that everyone has some shred of happiness behind whatever walls are put up... well that and that one should ever film someone in the bathroom without someone's knowledge.

It was that in mind that convinced him to try again.

"So Gwen..." he started casually. His conversation died in his throat from a lack of reply, and decided to take another approach.

"Have you seen the last Harry Potter movie?" It was foolproof, he thought. It was a question, so she had to answer... plus everyone likes Harry Potter. However, Gwen still decided to undignify his question by supplying no answer.

Her grip around her price gun got suspiciously tighter.

"Ok, I'll tell you a story. One time-"

"Just shut it!" Gwen snapped as she dropped her bottle of McLean Cola on the harsh granite floor. "Why do you always feel a need for conversation? My god! It may have slipped from your attention, but not everyone can be a bubbly ray of sunshine like you. Some people prefer their quiet. How can you not process the fact that there is more than one emotion in the human mind than eternal glee-"

"Because I know what it's like to lose everything!" Geoff couldn't stop himself. He gasped lightly at his outburst and tried to hide his eyes under the brim of his hat. Gwen's voice seemed to have disappeared at this revelation, and her brooding onyx eyes were urging him to continue.

Their job took a backseat and Geoff cleared his throat.

"I mean..." he began, "I know what it's like to have nothing. My parents aren't really the brightest. I was conceived on a beach, for heaven's sake! They weren't ready for me. And when I came along, all their money, whatever little it was, went to me. We lived in this little shack of a place right on the shore for about 12 years. My parents couldn't get better jobs 'cause they didn't have money for college or anything, and I could barely afford to go to school."

Geoff paused. He was surprised that he had allowed himself to divulge his life story to Gwen in the middle of a department store, but went on regardless.

"My sister came along when I was 9, and money got tighter. Then, when I started middle school, my parents pooled some cash and bought me my camcorder. That changed everything. I videotaped lots of stuff and made movies. I started to run a movie theatre in the spare patch of land next to our place and charged ten bucks a head. The money started to roll in. My dad went to a community college and got a better job because of it, and we were in our own house by the time I was 16."

Gwen was staring at Geoff with eyes the size of saucers. Gwen had never heard such a story in her life. The fact that Geoff had so little, yet smiled so much and Gwen had so much yet smiled so little, gave her a newfound appreciation for the party animal.

"What I'm saying is," Geoff continued, "is that I know how to appreciate things more. I guess that's why I smile so much. Even this job is a bit of a privilege 'cause the money's coming in and we're getting food on the table... I don't know maybe that sounds naive to you."

Gwen shook her head rapidly at this accusation, hoping this action would erase all of her bitterness towards him. "No." She said firmly.

Even though they didn't talk at all after that, Gwen felt like she had that most stimulating conversation she had had in her entire life.

* * *

><p>As the second hand finally reached its destination, 6 o 'clock dawned upon McLean Mart. Without a single complaint from Blaineley (which was a feat that was previously unachieved), everyone stripped themselves of their aprons and exited the store.<p>

"We're going to Devon Joseph's right?" Heather inquired. The panicked tone of her voice was easily noticed, so everyone agreed and headed to their respective cars.

* * *

><p>After a quick drive they all arrived outside the little bar. Gwen and Duncan strutted in first, taking dibs on a booth in the corner playfully. The rest of them followed suit, all shuffling in- the booth was so small they were almost shoulder to shoulder. DJ caught sight of them entering and started to prepare drinks.<p>

Courtney lodged herself on Duncan's other side and looped her arm around his smoothly. Duncan responded by making a noise of contentedness and gripping her wrist sweetly. Courtney could feel Trent's words fade away slowly.

Gwen was wedged into the corner of the booth, and in between her brother and Geoff. After their conversation on the job Gwen had been finding it difficult to meet Geoff's eyes for more than one second. Every time she did so (which was increasing by the minute) she would cast her gaze down sharply. Geoff was worried by this. Was she embarrassed? Did he choose the wrong moment to lay his origins upon her? Was their friendship too fresh to be weighed down by such a key part of Geoff's life? Did he scare her off?

Geoff couldn't help but feel that Gwen's shifty eyes were a result of all of the above and he started mentally kicking himself for bursting earlier.

Trent was seated next to Geoff, but his eyes were resting on Duncan and Courtney entangled with one another across the table. The couple were too engrossed with each other to notice Trent's ogling, which left him to speculate in peace. His emerald eyes swirled as he saw Duncan's arm break free from Courtney's and make its way to her knee. Courtney fell into a fit of giggles, and Trent decided he had seen enough for one evening.

Heather sat on the edge of the booth, but her head was turned towards the door, eagerly awaiting Alejandro. She took one glance at Duncan and Courtney- their foreheads were dangerously close- and grinned.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes Courtney managed to salvage what was left of her uptight business attitude and cleared her throat- as Duncan withdrew from marking it with his mouth. Everyone turned to face her as she ran a hand through her hair.<p>

"Ok," she started, tapping her palms on the mahogany table. "I've already interviewed Duncan," she paused to slide Duncan a sinister grin, which he mirrored.

"So does anyone want to go next?" Courtney finished after a very lustful conversation with Duncan's eyes. There was silence for a few seconds, before Geoff tipped his hat out of his baby blue eyes. He raised his hand wearily.

"I'll go." He offered. Gwen could feel her alabaster cheeks redden, and mentally thanked DJ for having such low lighting. She lowered her gaze just to make sure no one noticed anyway.

"Alright, I'll meet you next Friday, right here." She instructed briskly. Gwen chuckled. It seemed that Duncan didn't manage to completely eradicate the high maintenance in her. Geoff looked mock puzzled.

"Don't you want me to come over?" Geoff asked slyly, knowing full well why Courtney asked Duncan over for the interview and not him. Courtney's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink and Duncan couldn't seem to contain the smug grin dominating his face.

"No." She said finally. The feeling within the group had grown strangely tense; a mutual understanding of Courtney and Duncan's relationship established itself and was creating somewhat of an awkward atmosphere.

* * *

><p>Luckily DJ came over to their table with a warm smile and a tray of six drinks.<p>

"Here you go guys." He offered, placing the tray on the table. Heather saw this as a perfect chance to unveil the ticking of her mind. She grabbed a bottle and took a big gulp, banging the glass on the table a little too hard for normality.

"Actually DJ," she started, her lips twisting, "we're gonna need another bottle."

That got everyone's attention.

Everyone turned to face Heather in surprise.

"Why?" DJ asked curiously. Everyone had the exact same question riddling their minds, and Heather disregarded the weight of her workmate's (minus DJ) stares as she answered fluently.

"I invited someone to join us." Heather said.

BAM. It hit Trent right in between the eyes like a freight train. He knew who was coming. He knew why they were talking earlier at McLean Mart, and if his observations were correct, he had a hunch as to why she had invited him. Duncan's head shot up from Courtney's level, his eyes alert.

"Who?"He asked sharply. Before Heather could answer, it appeared through the door. His timing was perfect, Heather mused. Heather could feel Trent tense up at the newly arrived guest, and Trent could feel Geoff do the same.

Alejandro strolled over to the six of them confidently, ignoring the venomous stares that were boring into him from Geoff, Trent, Gwen and Duncan. Courtney caught Duncan's hand under the table, stroking her thumb across his palm reassuringly.

"Hola." He greeted casually, as if he wasn't about to have drinks with people who he had manipulated and stolen girlfriends from. Trent was the first to break the painful silence.

"Get out." He seethed, the grip on his bottle tightening dangerously close to breakage. Alejandro raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Calm down, Amigo. I am not here to fight. I have been invited by the lovely Heather to join you tonight. I had no knowledge that you would be here, and I merely ask that we put our differences aside for one night, for I do not wish for my past to jeopardize my future with my date." The final word caught Duncan's attention even further.

"Date?" he questioned, his voice almost cracking.

"Yes, Duncan, date," Alejandro confirmed, casting an eye to Courtney. "Much like you, I see. Hola, Courtney. I thought I saw a green Mohawk come to your door yesterday." Duncan's head snapped to his girlfriend abruptly.

"You know him?" he asked hastily. Courtney shrugged.

"We're neighbours." She replied heavily. After a few seconds of silence she added, "oh, and Hello Alejandro." It couldn't have gotten any more awkward if they tried. The Latin took this opportunity to find himself a seat in the already cramped booth.

"There doesn't seem to be any room for me to sit, Chica." Alejandro observed casually, his arms crossing. Heather felt herself smiling as she stood and went to his side. She put a hand on his well sculpted shoulder.

"Take a seat; I'll sit on your lap." Heather proposed.

"Ah," Alejandro's voice sliced through the group, "a beautiful mind for a beautiful girl. I have always valued a woman's intelligence as much as her looks."

Heathers cheeks darkened. Duncan's back straightened. Courtney's nerves heightened. Gwen, Trent and Geoff looked on apprehensively.

Alejandro grinned deviously as he did what he was told. This action sent silent shockwaves though the group. Duncan's cheeks grew warmer and his body tensed. Courtney felt nervous at Duncan's sudden mood change, and gripped onto Duncan's tighter in response.

Trent was torn. He was well aware of the jealousy seeping through both couples. If this involved anyone else he would've stayed out of it, but as long as Courtney was in the throng, he couldn't help but root for Alejandro a little bit.

Heather placed herself snugly within Alejandro's arms, sighing in content as her back rested against his solid chest. His hands lied in her lap and he placed his chin upon her shoulder. Duncan was extremely close to throwing his beer bottle across the room.

Geoff decided to break the tension (or whatever of it he could, anyway) and tried to strike up a conversation.

"So..." he searched his repertoire for conversation starters, but since Gwen had been invading his mind for the entire evening, the only one he seemed to be able to generate is: "Have you guys seen the last Harry Potter movie?"

Gwen smiled to herself.

Unfortunately, like last time, his attempts to talk about Harry Potter were dashed. No one responded to his question, but that was probably because everyone was well involved with the massive flirt fest that was tainting the table.

It was unmerciful and shameless. Heather and Alejandro's advances had evolved rapidly, and the couple were already staring at each other deeply as Heather's hands roamed his thick brown hair. Duncan was glaring at them, outraged.

Courtney tried to control her boyfriend's anger by nuzzling her nose into his neck, mumbling sweet musings into his ear. Her breath tickled him temptingly. Stealing one last stony glance to Heather and Alejandro, he turned to Courtney, preparing to give Heather the show of her life.

Heather slid her thin eyes towards Duncan, who was placing light kisses down Courtney's jaw hungrily. Fuming with jealousy, she retaliated accordingly. In one swift movement, she turned around and had Alejandro straddled in the small booth. Trent moved further into Geoff in disgust as Heather gripped the back of Alejandro's neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

Duncan's eyes were fixed on the couple across from them in ire. He pulled all the strength he could muster and kissed Courtney violently before pulling away, panting.

"Let's go to yours." He said hurriedly. Courtney nodded and shuffled out of the booth, with Duncan hot on her heels. Duncan hoped that would be enough for Heather.

"You know what, I'm gonna go too."

"Me too."

"Wait for me."

Gwen, Trent and Geoff all pushed themselves out of the booth as quickly as they could manage, and practically sprinted to the door. They all tried desperately to burn out the memory of that entire night from their minds.

When Heather and Alejandro were left alone, they pulled apart. Heather rested her forehead against Alejandro's as her fingers drummed at the back of his neck.

"I think we put on a pretty good show." Alejandro whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>Ugh... I feel so dirty. I need a shower.<strong>

**Anyway, it's about 12:30am and I just finished writing this, so apologies for any errors I failed to pick up.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, and CRITISISM IS APPRECIATED EVEN MORE!**

**Can't improve if no one shoots me down once in a while :)**

**With the idea of someone shooting me, I bid you good night (or morning...)**

**BFG**


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